Different Strokes of Color

I knew a girl with polka dots

I saw her every day

Who could like a girl with spots?

I wish she’s go away.

 

Everyone like’s stripes you see

My group was blue and green

We ruled the school with colors bold

Anyone else would be obscene.

 

We taunted dots and made her cry

Poked fun at her yellow and purple marks

Other kids joined in our fun

Just a prank, a laugh, a bit of lark.

 

Then one day her colors changed

The spots were gray and black

She hung her head when she left the school

She never did come back.

 

One day I asked a teacher where

The girl with dots had gone

She shook her head and looked at the class

She told us she had been withdrawn.

 

Seems she had left the school one day

She walked along the riverbank

With backpack loaded with some rocks

She walked out into the water and sank.

 

She left a note about how sad she was

That she just didn’t seem to fit

My friends and I just hung our heads

The blame was ours, I admit.

 

Each day I walk along those shores

Each year I place a spotted wreath

For a different girl who had her place

Who didn’t deserve the grief.

Reviews

[bre]

This has to be one of my favorite poems, and I love the title! This write is so simple and has a clear message, and thats why i enjoy it so much. I was well liked in high school, but i was also a "mean girl" for the simple fact that I never stood up for "The girl with dots" i may not have joined in on the jokes but I might as well have, because I didn't help. Can't wait to read more.

bre.

[Poeticpiers]

to be different makes you a target difficult to cope with as an immature teenager Thats wy the copy each other;s styles an adult can make the decision not to be one of the herd. Kids can be cruel unable to see the possible results of their actions but the sad truth ia that grown ups do it too. I am old enough not to take any notice of what others think of me good bad or indifferent I am as I am and quite happy to be different
i enjoyed your well presnted writing