I was bullied as a child,
Yet the adults blamed me,
They say those were just jokes,
Made by kids my own age,
They never thought how it would feel,
To a child to be isolated,
To be an outcast and targeted,
For childish malice and taunts.
I grew up of course,
I still think them wrong,
I wanted to prove myself,
To be more successful than them.
I didn’t become better than them,
As much as I hoped to be,
I’m not happier either,
Not proud of myself as well.
My mother kept on nudging me,
To do better and earn more,
And I was getting impatient,
And a bit sad about things.
She kept of telling me,
My classmates back then earn more,
They’re successful and happy,
And I have started envying them.
Later on I realize,
My mother wanted something else,
Not merely more money and grandness,
But for pride, hers and mine.
She wanted me to be better,
To be proven right and envied,
So she can be proud and to brag,
Of the child she wanted to protect.