The Targeted One
Singled out, the targeted one,
Alone, afraid, constant fear,
The one who just does not fit in,
Looks which don't adhere,
Too big or small to be the norm,
Impeded by a stutter,
Or maybe just not their friend,
Just not their bread and butter.

They poke, they bite, they puch, they kick,
They fight despite your pleas,
Or maybe they bully mentally,
With pokes, and constant tease.
The targeted one watches alone,
His pain causing him to rend,
Wishing the fear could be over,
Wishing his life would end.

I was he, and he was I,
The one who sat alone,
His life in tatters, emotions shreds,
Just another bullied drone.
But I've got now what I always seeked,
The friendships that I've won,
That let me know there's more than me
More than the targeted one.

[Glen Passman, 31st January 1999]
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