It was the boys in my eighth grade class
The boys in my eighth class
I couldn't seem to get past the way they laughed at me.
The way they laughed you knew that they were laughing at you
Looking back I wonder, what was so funny about me?
Was it my greasy hair?
Was it all of these things I was so self conscious about?
All of these things that I already knew?
And they pointed and laughed at me.
Now that I'm older, and the eighth grade years are far behind me,
I still have those scars, those emotional scars.
They make me want to hide
Not look anyone in the eye
Because maybe, just maybe
They'll find something wrong with me.
And they'll point
And they'll laugh
Just like the boys in my eighth grade class.
And maybe one day I'll ask
What's so funny?