I Swear


Angela Richart, Editor-in-Chief


One word

Spat distastefully from someone’s mouth

Like projectile vomit.

It is hissed again in my ear

Echoing, stinging, I can feel it.

It burns a hole.

I sit numb, staring into the window;

Staring into space.

Ignoring the occasional flick to the back of my head

I grip the cords of my MP3 player.

Adjusting  the buds in my ears

The music blasts through my head

Like a cold gust of wind.

I can’t avoid them

The words are thrown at me like darts.

I pick up what’s left of my dignity

Polish it on the sleeve of my T-shirt.

Heat spreads across my face

Anger coursing through my veins

I walk away

Try to be the bigger person.

It does no good.

They come after me, an angry swarm of bees.

Insults hurled at me

Whispered ridicules as I pass in the hallway

Curious stares, hate drenched glares.

There is no escaping them

I want to melt into a puddle

So they can’t hurt me anymore

I wish I was invisible

A shadow on the wall

But that’s impossible

I want to curl up in the fetal position

But that would be letting them get the best of me

Instead I stand straight

Comfort comes from somewhere above

A loving hand guides me through the crowd

I will not cry; I have hope.

My faith will make me strong

They won’t bring me down today

I swear.