One Word
They picked on him every day.
He was different,
he didn't have any friends.
They called him weird,
they pushed him around.
I never said one word.
He never talked to anyone,
people thought he was stuck up.
They made fun of him,
but still I didn't say one word.
They hid his shorts in gym class,
stole his glasses in the morning.
I didn't say one word.
I could see how he felt,
I knew he wanted a friend,
someone to talk to.
But I never talked to him,
never said one word to him.
He'd ask the time of day,
and I would ignore him, embarrassed.
I never spoke one word.
One day he didn't come to school,
we pretended not to notice.
He didn't come the next day,
or the next.
I didn't say one single word.
Then the teachers finally told us.
He had commited suicide.
I didn't say one word.
I knew I could have stopped it,
I could have stuck up for him.
I hadn't said one word.
A week later I saw them picking on another kid,
and I finally said something.
I said one word.
Stop.
And it made all the difference.
Rilla