A Prose Poem: Wecome to the world (version 2)

Oh! To be anywhere but here!
But here I am, I’ve arrived at school.
HIGH school – it is my first day
I look around,
Everyone seems to be part of this world
Except me.
I am obviously the smallest,
Least known kid in this huge, scary school.

I’m standing on the side of the path,
When the bell shrills,
And I am swept away with everyone else
As they hurry off to their classes.
Everyone knows where to go -
Except me.

I am a lost, frightened sole with no-one to hold my hand
“Welcome to the big, bad world of HIGH school”
A voice inside my throbbing brain chants and jeers.
I stumble around, but eventually find my class.
Unfamiliar students and teachers stare at me
With their fake smiles put on, trying to hide their smirks
Until the teacher barks at me for being late.
Are they jeering at me?
It’s hard to tell
Because of the mask
That hides their thoughts and feelings.

The teachers dump piles
Of strenuous, pointless homework and assignments on me
And I quake at the thought
Of the upcoming sleepless nights
Worrying about how to complete it.
The schoolwork is difficult, complicated, and time consuming.
But everyone is used to this. Everyone.
Except me.

I am mocked and laughed at continually
Because of my obviously-second-hand uniforms,
Non-brand stationary,
And books covered in thin, brown paper.
Is this fair? Everyone seems to think so. Everyone,
Except me.


School has finally ended.
I lug my heavy bag to the bus stop,
It is raining.
I am soaked, chilled to the bone, and miserable.
I hope I catch the right bus.
But I am too ashamed,
Too scared to ask anyone for directions.
They would just stare at me
Because I am different.
Everyone understands this world that is new to me. Everyone.
Except me.
I board the bus and scurry quietly to a spare seat.
I am alone - all by myself.
oh, to be anywhere else but here!

I hear kids chatting,
Listening to MP3 players, - the music turned up loud,
And the latest mobile phones.
They are showing off, but everyone has them. Everyone.
Except me.
I do not know these things -
And they close in, and daunt and haunt my world.
They are having fun and are all ‘up there’-
With the IN crowd.
The latest brands of clothes,
Fashions, music and technology.
And they are familiar with these things.
They do not care for anyone who isn’t.
It is written all over everyone of them, every one.
Except me.

I hear swearing and bad language.
The words over and over again
That are unfamiliar with me
I am an innocent, lost soul -
When it comes to things of the world.
Exposed to words that stick like gum to my brain,
Words I wish I had never heard.
And I never would have,
If I had not been exposed at school.
They all are used to it, used to using it.
These words are in their every-day vocabulary
Normal words to them.
They hear and speak it every day.
Everyone uses them.
Except me.
And I don’t want to.
Because I hate the foul language.
And wish I could be blocked from the world -
From all
Oh, to be anywhere else but here!

I stay on the bus until the final passenger hops off.
I do not know where I am.
The driver turns round.
He is surprised to see someone still sitting in the empty rows
Because this is the last stop.
He indicates that I’ll have to get off.
I scramble uncertainly down the narrow bus steps.
It is still pouring down in buckets -
The heavens are really open today.
I miserably trudge into the unknown.
Oh, to be anywhere else but here!
I stop under a bus shelter
And huddle to keep warm.

And I wait.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for,
but I wait.

I am like a tiny row boat
Being tossed and turned furiously
In the crashing waves of a mighty storm.
I am clinging on tightly, but the storm never ceases.
And it has seized me.
Thrashing me violently against the jagged rocks.
And I sink lower –
Into despair.

I am a lost kitten in the storm.
Meowing out for help,
Until my throat is parched and terribly soar..
But my cry is lost in the storm.
And no-one hears me.
Everyone walks on by -
They know they are safe in their world of their own.
They are not interested in helping a lost soul.
They will make it to where ever they are going,
In the end. Everyone -
Except me.

But wait - what is that? –
Something…someone
In the distance is coming towards me.
With a light.
Someone to hold my hand and guide me.
They have heard my desperate, silent cry.
And they will help me,
To get to the end.
And you never know,
I might just make it.
Yes, and everyone will make it. Everyone,
Including me.

My plea was once: if only I could be anywhere but here.
but now it is: Oh, if only everyone could be here!