High School Poem by Hannah Shier

Trip.
Fall.
Laughter.
Whisper, point.
Mockers mock and jibe.
The girl slowly pushes herself
up off the ground, dusts off her clothes, and picks up her things, ignoring the looks, ignoring the laughter, ignoring the rumors and the cruel lies.
Head held high, gaze like steel, she looked at the mockers, looked so hard at them that they turned with one last sneer and walked away. The girl smiled and, too, left.