Bullying Poem

Bullying Is Abuse

Bullying is abuse. Any type of abuse it wrong. Sometimes when the abuser tugs on a victim's scarlet string it ends badly for the wrong person. I would know. Sadly some don't.

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Everywhere you look there is bullying. My twin brother bullies me and my little brother Alex. I wish he would just take his anger out on me instead of Alex because he's autistic. I love my...

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The Scarlet String

©

Published: December 2011

I take a shaky breath
As I stand on the edge of the cliff
The cliff of my end, my death
Is this the end? I ask. I doubt it.

Pull it
Pull the scarlet string
The bloody string that will glint
With the light of the morning
As I hang I think
With disdain, the bloody string
Made me forget my name

I take a step further as the man
Takes a step closer in
I gasp in pain and
I think
To myself in the dirt and sand
Is this the end? I doubt it.

Sever it
Sever the string tied on my neck
Have an ax cut the throat of the victim with it
Have the blood sputter out and watch it paint the ground black
In those last moments I think in the desperate shade of a dying pit
In the end it came down to that string that hung from my severed neck
Again that bloody string ended it.

As I am pushed
I feel the breeze greet me on my dying day oh how I pity and envy it
They forced me down and shushed
My cries as I shout my hatred and my disdain
My final words were angered and hushed
"Is this the end? I doubt it!"

Touch it
Touch the killing string that marks the day I died
Feel it and its smoothness for it
Will not last long and no I shall not lie
In the moonlight I can feel the pit
Of despair wrapping around my feet and forcing thoughts of I
I myself touch the string & am forced to embrace it
And in the moonlight, all that reflects is a bloody tear in a dead eye
In the end it came to this.

I swallow the wine,
Tasting it & its beauty
I watch them with strange eyes as they dine
In the silence of the purity
And then I choke & they watch me in the ballroom that isn't mine
I fall from the chair & sing of mutiny
And I asked with my last words "Is this the end?"
But though I saw the beauty
Of the scene I had to doubt it.

Do you see the string?
The string is tied around my neck right now
It is scarlet and black and when you see it, your heart wrenches and wrings
It is tied in a bow
On the side of my neck and the string ends are singed
If you see the string and watch it closely you can see it getting shorter as I draw low
And in the moonlight it finally catches aflame and dies as the morning birds sing
I felt the string leave my neck as the moon reflected teary eyes & silently, stoically watched the show
And of course it all came down to this
And it ended with the bloody red string.

So every time you think of this
You should know you started it
Every day, every hour, every moment something comes to this
It is because of what you did to us every f*cking day
Every insult and "little" favor pulls upon this string
Every sadness, sorrow and second of despair burns a little more of it away
The next time you decide that you need a doll to pound or hurt for a happy ping inside
You should think of this and the string around your neck on every dying day
The next time you decide to tug maybe you should ask, "Is this the end?"
Because sometimes when you doubt it
You were wrong and they died.

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Michala Anderson
  • 4 years ago

Everywhere you look there is bullying. My twin brother bullies me and my little brother Alex. I wish he would just take his anger out on me instead of Alex because he's autistic. I love my little brother dearly and I will do anything to protect him even if it means dying for him. I would die for anybody just to protect them from someone or something. I care about everyone and everything.

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