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Misery
Staring down at my feet,
knowing that if I
look up
I will regret it.
Everyday the popular girls pick on
me
because I’m not up to
there standards.
I’m overweight, and walk with my head
down.
I walk by myself hadn’t made friends yet.
So they make fun of me
show me up in front
of everyone.
Pointing and laughing
my dignity, self esteem
in the palms of there
hands.
They just squeeze
what’s left of it
it and kick it
to the side.
Tears rolling down
my tender face
like a rain fall.
Can’t stand up for myself
to scared of the popular girls.
But everyday my mother tells me
that one day I will have the last
laugh.
poem
by
Chantel Braatz
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