*This is a spoken word poem guys*

Imagine 6th grade all smiles, little pain.
All of a sudden there's anger, harsh words, cruel names.
Each word a stab in the back,
A scratch on a heart that's already cracked.
So-called friends disguising insults
by adding I'm only kidding.
As if they believe three little words
can make it all better.
As if sticks and stones hurt worse,
as if broken bones are more painful
than the words thrown at you
in the hallways.
As if saying I'm only kidding,
after drilling thoughts into your head,
of why you're not good enough,
takes it back.

Fast forward 7th grade.
New school, newer pain.
Words different.
Meanings the same.
Betrayal by your best friend,
because some girl asked if you were dating.
He turns from friend to foe in an instant,
saying the words you never thought
you'd hear from someone
supposed to be your friend.
At least I have a family.
Because your story was written into another book.
Only this time,
there's no just kidding.
Only this time insults aren't disguised,
they're said with no regrets.

Now we're on 8th grade.
Same school less pain.
Words no longer loud and proud,
but whispers behind your back.
Only this time there's more,
there's laughs and looks.
So you hide what you feel,
find your friends in books.
Because they give you comfort
since the real world has none.
Until you meet your best friend,
shy at first, but you realize,
she knows how it is.
So instead of hiding you stick together.
Two against the world.
All against two.

Fast forward 10th grade.
Fake smiles forced laughs.
Scarred wrists hidden pain.
Less whispers more looks.
Only this time there's not a hint
of guilt,
of regret,
of concession.
No feelings of remorse
for the evil they're doing.
Just more laughter,
more pain.
Less words,
more slipping away.

Fast forward 11th grade.
Fake smiles forced laughs.
Scarred wrists barely eaten in days.
Few whispers many looks.
Burning holes into the back of your head,
Insecurites wreaking havoc.
No relief from emotions.
Only this time memories are left
of names,
of pain,
of hurt,
of heartbreak.
Each thought striking what's left
of your heart.
Music is your only escape
and even that doesn't always work.
True friends scarcely remain
and very few actually know the pain.
Bracelets covering your arm,
to hide what you've done,
to protect yourself from criticism.
Because if they knew it'd start all over again.
Only this time, you'd be too far gone.

Think ahead 12th grade.
Scarred wrists, remembering pain.
Music remaining the only escape.
True friends stay the same.
All praying for better days.
Only this time
there's a little more hope,
for what will come
despite all that's been done.
Only this time,
there's less fear,
there's less anger.
Only this time,
the ending is unclear.
The perfect example,
of an imperfect person.