Names, taunts and jeers in the canteen,

Words sharp as knives, cut my self esteem.

“Ugly, lanky cow, thinks she’s really it”

Laughter slicing as they prescribe sharp, unfunny wit.

Ridiculed for standing out, my marks are just too high,

And so they drip-feed saline hate injected with a lie.

Seems I’m their favourite game but I’m the one who always loses,

If only they’d done this with fists, maybe someone would see the bruises.


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