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Bullying: a reality, not poetry

At daytime, it hunts me like a stalker.
At night, it haunts me like a nightmare.
It cuts deep through my soul
That leaves scars, an everlasting tattoo.

It preys on my confidence
And binds me in decadence.
Have I been told to clapback?
I was. For I, too, wished to bounce back.

But as frail as I was, I crumbled.
My dignity they trampled.
I held my hand out for a truce
But they laughed at me sans remorse.

And charlatans posed like lovers,
Wrote an oath. Such great pretenders!
Have I met some devils in disguise?
Aye, sweet offenders. They spew lies!

And I wonder who will be sent tomorrow
With a mission to cast me in sorrow.
Am I ready to face another battle?
Do you mind if we sit down for a tittle-tattle?

Heck! What say you, Romeo?
Bullying never goes out of style though.
It adapts. It evolves with time. It never dies.
Alas! Sometimes I could not decipher truth from lies.

Must I shed my shabby clothes and wear an armor?
Or, shall I grow a thick skin against their whipping?
Must I endure the criticisms some more?
Pardon me. But I must refute. I am tired of weeping.

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