Torture

You.
All of you.
I dread school because of you.
You skateboarders.
Don't you have anything better to do?
Than Throw things at me Spanish class-it's not as if the teacher notices.
And call my name-my real name- can still be an insult
when said by you.
"Tealeea!"
you pronounce it.
You sound like a duck.
And I try to ignore you, show no reaction.
I show no reaction, but still you attack.
Bumping me in the hallway,
I have to move my feet crazily to regain my balance.
And when My things fall down, you step all over them.
Stepping all over my homework.
Stepping all over my feelings.
Even on my birthday.
Happy Birthday
can be an insult coming from you.
Asking me if I'm drawing fairies.
I respond no, but you then announce,
Talia is drawing fairies!
to the whole class.
"Do your work"
You tell me when I'm drawing in class.
You do your work.
I want to say.
But I tell you the truth
I already finished
And I've always been against suicide.
But now I think I might.
If you were happy, I would have at least,
made somebody smile in my death.
And if you were filled with guilt,
I would have gotten my revenge.
I would.
But I have too much to live for.
Art.  Writing .  Trapeze.
And my future.
You don't even have that planned at all yet, do you?
You probably won't even go to college.
You who call me stupid.
Say you get all A's and B's,
when you don't.
If you did you would be on honors.
And I have a feeling it's more than just one "C"
That kept you off of them.
I was always on them till I got that one C.
You throw my pencilcase across the room.
Have you no respect for the art supplies I keep in there?
Of course you don't.
And the only friendly faces in this school,
are only at lunch and related arts.
I want to tell the teacher,
But I'm too much of a wimp.
I want to yell and scream and tear you to pieces.
But that's not polite.
And my parents always told me
if I was polite.
And always a good girl.
I would always do well in the world.


But I guess sometimes in order to do well,
I must live wth the torture.