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Ballad for Bullies
September 5, 2015
Your voice sounds like the prairie wind,
Whipping my bones, scratching my skin.
It blows me hither and tither;
It has taught me to be stronger.
You always look at me like a runt,
A crooked seed, decaying, rotting.
I'm not the seed anymore you hunt,
You have forgotten, I am growing.
You're wasting my time, I’ll reset the clock.
I have learned to hold my tears and fight back.
Your show is ending, breathe and take a bow,
Then someday I'll ask: Who is laughing now?
© Amber L., Carpinteria, CA
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