Today at assembly we sat in silence.
Sullen, serious, surreal, was this experience.
There had been a terrible outbreak of bullying
and the virus was to be quarantined,
by sharing stories of teasing and torture
so one by one rows were standing.

It began so innocently;
In the 3rd grade I was alone on the playground;
In 5th grade I was too short, too tall, too skinny, too round.
But then this sophomore stood up, knees trembling,
A cynical guy in my math class not worth noticing,
until his voice echoed through the crowd.

As a child he was a bit awkward, a bit chubby.
Weren't we all, I thought, what a pity party.
He was teased, he said, he was bullied a lot.
Then his voice cracked as he told the story
that one day, he had had enough of this misery;
Ran to the bathroom, wrapped his neck in a belt,
and tried to swing from the knot.

As they dropped, jaws broke the floor's wooden panels,
as he disintegrated into sobs, microphone booming his agony.
How could I have dismissed his pain, rolled my eyes in disbelief?
He struggled to finish his story, but when he looked up, he wasn't alone,
for hundreds of broken souls who had been silent all along
were cheering and clapping, telling him to stay strong.

If there is a moral to this poorly crafted mess,
it is that you never know who sits next to your desk.
However they may look, whatever they may say,
always take the time to ask if they're okay.
And whatever you do, never dismiss someone's pain,
for you never know when you'll see them again.