The Clouded Glass

My work is about how bullying affects people, it destroys people's lives and those who are bullied hurt. Just as everyone, so people should think before hurting others.

The glass was always clouded.
Opaque. Solid. Unyielding.
Bodies, it had shrouded.
Minds, it was shielding.

Emanating disembodied conversation:
Curses, insults, heartless chatter,
Then whimpers, screams, tribulation.
We only prayed it didn't shatter.

Day after day, no pause, no fail,
We ignored the clouded glass.
Daily did bullying prevail,
Although bystanders did amass.

It took a shriek I knew
To provoke afterthought.
I looked back and saw the view.
Clouded was the glass not.

It was clear and showing me
An animalistic exchange:
Prey, shivering and lonely,
With its lion predator in range.

Others stood, just staring,
Separated by their quiet.
I couldn't stay there, uncaring,
While my mind was a riot

I punched that darn glass.
It shattered beneath my fist.
I could finally step pass
To the world I cloaked in mist.

One moment I was the boss–
The lone, brave rebel–
Then, I was at a loss,
Overshadowed like a pebble.

So this was the reason
That I stood alone.
Bullies hate treason,
Although they don't hold the throne.

The glass reappeared.
I could see others pass by.
Was it just me or it appeared
As if they were deaf to my cry?

Is this what I had done,
Day in and day out:
Ignoring the bullies' fun
Without a shadow of doubt?

Yet, now I had broken
That horrible divider.
And when I had spoken
I made the cracks wider.

So just before my humiliation
Came a collage of protest.
A surge of unification.
An emission of unrest.

Mute voices gained sound,
Fragmented ones linked.
The glass tumbled to the ground,
Due to a force believed extinct.

Froze did the predator above me.
This clearing was overcrowded.
With its subjects, it daren't disagree,
As the glass was no longer clouded.

Artist: Rya Buckley
Age: 12-16