A boy being thrown into the bathroom stall,
“No! Stop! Help!” Crash, thump thump smack!
“Do something girl, defend yourself! Take me down, take us all!”
Debating on whether to help or save myself from an attack.

The thrill to be the cause of someone else’s pain
physically or mentally, it's all the same.

Blood splatters, “clean it up or we’ll come after you again.”
The weeps and cries coming from the stall, I didn't touch him, I'm not to blame.

Silence, silence, silence
Sometimes, I have the loudest conscience.
Just say it you monster! Say it! “STOP!”
They all turn to look at me, half with anger, disbelief
The other half with relief.

"What did you say? You must be in love with the faggot!"
"This isn't right, I can't believe I stood and watched this happen!"
"Shut up queer! Steve, let him have it!"
I stood by the stall, prepared to take the beating.
Shutting my eyes, I hear a voice
"Leave him alone, or I'll be the one you'll be faced with dealing."
One after another they all stood by me.
Then we took a step back.

Stood by the boy who no longer was pleading


we reached to help him up, trying not to seem too misleading.


His eyes widened, grateful but shocked, he raised his right hand,
His tears replaced by a smile, faint but existent
one voice, one stand.
All it took to make the difference.