Don’t Notice
Anxiety and Nervousness
Palms deep in my pockets
Head hung low, eyes downcast
Reddish bangs cover blue eyes
No, don’t look at me, please.
Need to make it through
Halls filled with kids like me
But they don’t see me like them.
Please, just keep ignoring me.
Don’t notice, no, don’t look.
Largely built athlete sees me
Clenching my jaw tight
As he speaks, or rather
It’s more of a grunt
The sound of disgust.
Don’t look into his eyes
Keep looking at the floor.
It’s white and has lines in it.
The black skid marks from sneakers.
The door to the “nerd’s” library opens
I fail to see it sling open
My arms screams in pain when it hits me.
Getting a closer look at the floor
I see the black marks.
“Fuck” I say inside my own mind
Another kid picks up my books
Outstretches his hand and helps me up.
Taking my books, I just nod my thanks.
Only first period and a long way to go.
Please, just don’t notice me.
It’s better that way.
I wrote this poem from a memory. I wasn’t exactly popular growing up and for some reason this certain morning has stuck with me. Of course, I had to write about it.
Focal Breeze 