I told her that it was awkward
Being sent with someone’s daughter
Cayson said “How can your parents not tell you this?”
And killing Harry Potter
“He’s Cuban, he’s white, but I don’t know about you.”
I was a mystery to them
I came from somewhere new
I bragged to them I was the strongest
So I took it all
And in a frenzy sprinted through the hallway
My pride led to my fall
She used to go to the Christian school in elementary
Her name was Scarlet McCloud
When I saw her at my highschool
I was surprised to see her in the crowd
I was friends with Derek
He showed me a girl’s picture on his phone
“Bro, do you think she’s pretty?”
I said “Yes” in monotone
If I wasn’t like that I would have gotten into it
But all was dull and boring
He was manipulating me
“The reason you won’t let me in your room
It's because I’ll be snoring.”
Me and him were the only good boys inside that class
He asked a lot of questions
And everything I passed
But it was traumatizing when I was in highschool
I felt so scared constantly and never once was cool
Blaring paranoia and scanning the other boy’s face ⛓️🔒🕳️🚪🕸️
Ensure he didn’t see my fractures and how reality I’d break 🖤🌑🌫️😔😶🌫️
Because I could not let them see the storm if I was to be safe 🔥💔⛓️😢🖤
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Author:
Lewis O’Carroll (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 3rd, 2026 15:11
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this poem to document memories from my fifth‑grade year and later at the public high school. I was one of the few students who took classes seriously, and because of that I was often liked by teachers in ways other kids weren’t. But behind that image of being the good, respectful boy, I was dying inside from an illness no one around me could comprehend. During those years, I lived in constant fear. I scanned other children’s faces to make sure they didn’t perceive the cracks in my reality — the terrifying sense that something inside me was broken. I believed that if anyone saw what I was experiencing, they would reject me or respond in ways that made me unsafe. Because of that, I never spoke to peers about the suffering that plagued me. I thought they lacked the capacity to understand such a heavy truth, and that revealing it would make me despised. That silence created a deep wound of invisibility and being unsupported in my extreme anguish. I struggled to socialize in a smooth, natural way, which showed itself in moments like when he showed me a picture of a girl and I couldn’t respond with the usual boyish enthusiasm he expected. My monotone “Yes” wasn’t apathy — it was the weight of everything I was carrying. As a final note, the part about him manipulating me by saying I had a problem with his snoring was the only memory not related to school. It happened earlier in childhood, before any trauma began, when my cousin’s family visited our house.
- Category: Children
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
This is a painful poem of a secret kept inside and attempts to blend when there was no blending. Nicely done
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