in french class in 8th grade
i was hit on by guys i didn't even know they knew my name
then I yelled at them called them fags
thought they were messing with me
the reasoning for the flirtation is unknown
the point of my poem is full grown
the class didn't last
but the consequences did

a year later i became what they appeared to be to me
i was the hated one
the one pushed around
and put down
the one cast aside
who had nothing to do
no where to hide
thoughts of shallow escapes by suicide


karma got to me
through the judgements of others
so often i think of those guys
who i thought were playing me
and i think of the 9th grade so called friends who maimed me


now the poem is over
and i am grown
no longer feeling alone
karma can't get you if you get it first
i no longer make people feel bad
because i know that later on i'll hurt worse