Alma The Bully Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

So naive at the age of eight
Enjoying being in the third grade,
I had no thoughts that would negate
The beauty of life that God made.

School was there for learning
For making of friends, having fun-
Yet some came with gross bickering
For nothing that one has done.

She shouted at me for no reason,
I got scared and I ran away.
Hid in the little kids' rest rooms,
But she followed me on that day.

She chased, pushed me on the wall,
Her rage was so alien to me.
Though she was pretty, smart, and all-
Anger was her peculiarity!

Then a group of older students came,
Saw her shouting and pushing me there.
They saw that I was not to blame,
Then they said to one, 'Isn't that your sister? '

I turned, saw my big sister there,
And Alma, the bully, got her shock!
She stopped pushing, under a cold stare-
Ceased the shouting and the attack!

Alma was sort of sick in the head,
But her kind, they always leave a scar.
There is a fear of the bullies we dread,
And the good in us they can mar.

All Rights Reserved ~~~ Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~05.04.14