the death of a teenage dream

the long haired teenager
listens faithfully
to his music
and it brings to his mind,
thoughts full of grandeur.
of one day
being onstage and being
the opening act for his favorite band.
his ripped jeans
and combat boots
and t-shirts
are a mainstay to his wardrobe
and the guitar that he drags around
everywhere he goes
is in desperate need of a correct tuning
but
it still lays as the backdrop
for the lyrics and songs
he writes
somewhere in the hall
between 3rd and 4th hour.

It was then
During his Sophomore year
That the kids at his school
Began to
Mock him
Tease him
Kick him
Punch him
Put him down
Belittle his dreams
and the teachers didn’t stop the abuse
They turned their head
They turned a blind eye
They turned the channel
and ignored what they did
because, after all
“Kids will be Kids”

so he cut his hair
and he changed his clothes
and he changed his music
and he lost the boots
and he lost the torn, faded jeans
and he burned the t-shirts
and he conformed.

He is no longer alive
He is no longer there
He is now a part of them.
and they killed him,
they killed who he was.

Kids have a knack for killing what they don’t understand.