Felicity

It sounds like a true story. Certainly plenty of stories like it. Never an excuse or reason for bullying.

Real girl, but I altered the name, just in case. And yeah, it's mostly real, but still, it's fiction. :-/

Featured in the Triple Name Club.

My...this is filled with such painful memories and so very clearly describes the puzzling need to be a good sport.

A very well written poem. It makes your heart go out to Felicity.

Yes, going through childhood there were always the scapegoats. Psychologists claim that's why we have massacres in the schools, though it never happened when I was growing up.
You use enjambment very effectively in this poem, Susan.

Well written, and it makes me sad that during the years I was growing up that I did not stand up more often to the bullies that were picking on those who were unable to stand up for themselves

I'm with you there, Richard. I was somewhat quiet in grade school, not shy, but not popular. Consequently I didn't have any clout with which to befriend those who were timid and sometimes picked on.

As I have gotten older, I have been amazed at how much damage a bully in grade school or high school can do. I will try to teach my grandchildren that lesson when they go to school

I've also realized that the bullies are the ones who need befriending. It's heartbreaking.

What a sad but unfortunately true depiction of the school days many of us have witnessed. I witnessed merciless teasing of children who were different when I was in elementary school. I watched helplessly as both boys and girls were tormented.

I was the one who didn't (make fun or pick on) J had my head knocked against the curb by boys in our town who dared pick on my sister. I cried the whole time I was fighting back, but nobody picked on my little sister.
Later, as an adult, my parents asked why I never said anything about the incidents and I answered truthfully: "You were both working and it became my job."
I also raised my four kids to "help" when help was needed by the underdog. It made for an intersting life when they were growing up but they all could look in the mirror in the morning and know they helped.
Your poem Susan, shows a real slice of life, made my heart ache to read it and that is why I really respect and enjoy (wouldn't say enjoyed this one but did think it was wonderful writing) your writing.
You are fearless in your choice of subjects and I respect that too.
Great write!

I like how Southerners take compliments. Awww shucks, Miss Barbara. Thank you.

I wonder what "Felicity" is doing now?

Now THAT! Is an excellent question. I was so busy blabbing it never occurred to me. In my vain attempt to express my self about your poem. (Me,me,me!) I didn't even think of that. Now see that's what I mean about you. You take the most from other's comments and are on a brand new road examining the possibility of "What is Felicity doing now?"
That would make a good challenge OR even more fun YOU could write another post and tell. You are one good writer.

Oh my heart is aching for this kid!