Poems of grit, fun and nonsense. #bookmarkquinn

Sticks, Stones and Silent Scars

By Mark Quinn


There’s that bell again, ringing in my ears—
Sticks, stones, and silent scars,
Ringing in my ears.
Sitting under a tree, all alone,
Watching the top guys on their throne.
Wishing I could be a part—
I don’t even know where to start.
Lonely and alone,
No company, even when I’m at home.
My only friend is no action man,
He’s not into football, but Superman.
I don’t know if I should be
A City or United fan—
And where would I start
With such a plan?
Being part of a clique,
Going to school is making me sick.
Having to eat on my own—
I wish I could sit on a throne.
It’s time to play—but not for me;
Bullies from hell, set me free.
Waiting for the bus, all eyes on me.
I hope it turns up quick—I feel so sick.
I pray a seat is free
So I can sit next to someone
Worse than me.
Walking home, seeing the fights.
When it’s my turn, it’ll be a fright.
Looking to the skies and seeing a kite—
I wonder, does anyone see my plight?


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