www.whyville.net May 29, 2011 Weekly Issue



BounciBug
Guest Poet

The Storm

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CREATIVE WRITING
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Have I ever told you I was struck by lightning?
To be honest with you, the whole experience was unbearably frightening.
My entire day had been a miserable wreck,
a horrible attempt at trying to keep my life in check.
But then again, isn't it always the same?
All of those taunts from the so-called popular crowd, with most of them calling me lame.
It had been drizzly all throughout the day,
and it looked like the clouds were going to be here for at least a one week stay.
I finally began to cry my eyes out in the light rain,
but it's not like that helped soothe any of my emotional pain.
I was without an umbrella,
but I didn't mind as I listened to the raindrops' magnificent pavement a cappella.
Soon enough I felt like I was literally drenched to the bone,
and whether it was from rain or tears, it is still unknown.
Out of nowhere, waves of pain washed over me,
and the blinding light that engulfed me made it impossible to see.
The electricity that coursed through my veins stole my bones from their sockets,
and I thought they were going to start anew in my pockets.
The worst of it all was the cloud from which the streaks of light came,
a blonde haired beast with its green eyes aflame.
It said I was repulsive creature,
and that I would never be a Vogue feature.
It shrieked at me that sobbing was something only an idiot would do,
and I couldn't convince myself that these words weren't true.
My eyes were ripped from my face,
leaving vast, murky sockets left in their place.
It chuckled that without my eyes,
everyone would know that my previous face was just hiding an even more hideous disguise.
Searing hot bolts melted my lips until my mouth seemed to be only a dream,
meant to halt my gradually growing scream.
It told me that it was a huge relief to not hear my voice anymore,
and that when I could speak, it made the cloud's life feel like such a chore.
Both legs and arms were torn asunder,
becoming lost in its relentless cackling that resembled thunder.
Today I stand here in front of you, limbless, blind, and mute,
knowing that no one thinks that I'm pitiful nor cute.
Able to do nothing during my days but awake,
I'm certain the cloud still thinks me to be one of the world's greatest mistakes.

Author's Note: This poem is about bullying, in case you didn't understand the message.

 

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