The Toll

The laughter,

the booing,

the jeering

and sneering.

The snubs,

the scoffs,

the slights and the stares.

Sooner or later,

they all take their toll.

The people who break your window,

break your spirit,

break your heart when you’re young,

always seem to win

when you are old.

They grow up,

snakelike and successful,

never giving you a second thought.

The bullies, the aggressors,

the terrorists

always seem to win.

And me,

afraid of the consequences

of fighting back.

I tried to tell them

that every punch leaves

a bruise,

every cut leaves a scar,

and that not all pain is physical.

Now look at them.

Richer than Getty,

high on the hog.

Now look at me,

down in the dumps,

left in the lurch,

alone and loveless.

I pay the toll.

They don’t know

how high it is.