They did nothing when I was pushed and pullied
by others in our classes. I was bullied
because I loved, first and foremost, to read
(and not the three page tales considered fine
enough for others; I read Frankenstein---
a youngsters' version---and classic ghost stories;
even a poem or two about love's glories;
I met Dante quite a long time before
our junior year's Classics taught his lines more
collegiately). They could not grasp my need
that might just differ---just might---from some other
student's, and so they tried further to smother
my mind. And in those days I dared rebel
against their strictures, they just shrugged, "Oh well,"
(although I think the thought was, "Go to hell").
But soon enough, a smile replaced each frown
when they watched as class bullies slapped me down.
Starward