Ode to My Roller Bag

On the day of August 23rd, 2018
I walked into school,
a tired teen.

Hauling behind me,
squeaking slightly with glee
my roller backpack
quite a sight to catch.

I walk in the halls
avoid the walls
ignore the calls
of the boneheaded teens.
"Yo, is that a roller bag?"
"You must be trash!"

I try to dodge the kicks aimed at my roller bag
to no avail.
The kicks come,
as if in search of the Holy Grail,
and the bag is the grail.

When I walked down stairs
A smelly large pair of feet
Stood behind me
The sound of the other crowds
buzzing, like bees

The feet aim
And it is as if
A huge boat
Had swung against my heels
It felt like
I slipped
On a banana peel.
But my feet are like steel
Steady, stolid.

It has been almost 2 years
But word travels quickly
From mouths to ears.

Things have not gotten better.
Instead
they have fermented, molded
like old butter.

When I was walking home one day
There were a group of boys
Who surrounded me
Touching the roller bag
As if it were a dog's toy

I wanted to say to them
"You guys have the brains of a hog!"
But I only bowed my head
And walked on.

Before this I heard
From my friend Kurt
That people continued
to talk trash about me
to feed the lies
to cut my feeble heart.

Group chats....
Texts.....
Phone calls.......

The possibilities are limitless
Just like my tears 
That I have shed.
At night,
In my blissful bed.