And It Hurt

Tying my shoechild oin his way to school
I fell on my face
and it hurt
not the dirt,
not my face,
not my shoe,
not my lace.

It was the laughing.

Couldn’t they see
the books in my bag
were heavy and moving
and when they slid
so did I

It could have happened
to any of them
but they called me names
and pushed me down
and it hurt
not the dirt
not my face
not the place
where I landed

It was the laughing.

And It Hurt

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