Tag: bullying

Poem: Not Worth The Upsets – 21/09/21
Deliver me from the evils that await at the hands of certain beings,
an understanding that what they project in life is the pain they’ve already been suffering,
or a notion that the signs they exhibit are the nastiness wrought within their souls,
perhaps they’ve been hurt already, perhaps they just have a cruel heart,
perhaps we won’t know at all.

But the missing pieces of the puzzle won’t inextricably fall into place,
in fact, they might fall by the wayside under their devil’s sweeping cape,
little minds who wish to play games may think theirs are engorged,
but let me tell you this, dear friends,
I believe bullying behaviour is extremely untoward.

It’s as though they want to ruin another for their sheer pleasure,
a wreaking of revenge because an ego became snowed under,
I am the process, I am the deliverer,
I will not allow myself from useless words to suffer.

Stronger than the poison that seeps from veins,
a fighter within,
I shall never emit to them the words ‘je t’aime’,
unworthy of my belligerence,
untimely expulsions from my spirit,
my perturbed soul,
now I know,
they weren’t worth the upsets at all.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

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Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
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September 21, 2021

Poem: They Called You Average – 28/08/20

So, they called you average.
What is 'average' anyway?
Are you going to let their taunts get in your way?
Or will you rise, will you soar above the judgments, their negativity?
For some though, they’re more inclined to sink
and this image is more than dreary.

Some hearts can break at the slightest twinge
of criticism,
the human twang of strummed attack,
average, average, average,
is this what you are?
No, my darling, my dear,
I’ll speak of their words as if I’m 
breaking forth from Criticism’s prison with ease.

Awaken at every moment that you’re challenged
about who you are,
average is as average does,
this you are not,
and let me tell you this:
these taunts are coming from afar.

They are nonsense,
they are preying upon your insecurities,
in fact, can you now hear the echoes of their words
within the reverberation of your quiet words,
their intentions clearly seen?

Because to bring another down is cowardly and unkind,
why use such words with such power
to cause a sense of worthlessness,
a light removed from their eyes?
The shine of self-confidence and hope can sadly lose their gleam.

But average you are not,
never,
you outshine those letters arranged and intended cruelly,
hear my words instead,
you are amazing and strong and true,
allow your confidence to rise through and through.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Houcine Ncib on Unsplash

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Poem: You Can’t Be Here – 31/07/20

You can’t be here, she tells me,
her mocking voice, her stuck out tongue.
Yeah, you can’t be here! another girl joins in,
you’re not wanted here,
won’t you learn?
 
My eyes become downcast, I shuffle away,
my upper back curved, I want to shrink,
disappear,
I’ll let them have the final say.
 
I don’t know why I’m so undesirable,
this group is cruel, I only have one cause –
to be loved and accepted and appreciated for who I was,
because now, I am falling apart.
 
With each taunt, each nasty means of bringing me down,
you can’t be here, you can’t be here their words ring,
I want to wring the danger away from my heart,
the warning siren’s sound.
 
Because part of me wants to hurt,
to annihilate,
though I am not vicious,
not violently inclined,
but how nice it would be to erase their memories,
cause hurt, anger, and other feelings,
to replace their nasty words of their days.

It is as though I am unworthy,
unworthy of being within their friendship group,
and what, and why?
I simply wanted to be seen for who I am,
who I was, too.
 
These two forms of me are different,
one naïve and gullible, and the other jaded,
yet saddened and broken,
slightly hostile,
what is it I am meant to do?
 
To repair myself will take time,
and to expose myself further to them will
cause my soul to divide,
but I yearn for their acceptance, their precious time,
though it’s really worth nothing,
or at least should be worth nothing as compared to mine.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Rodolfo Quirós from Pexels

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