They call me a pushover.
A person who gets pushed and thrown over.
Am I one?
I hardly recall being pushed over.
Thinking back to the past.
Was I a pushover when I got up from my seat to let a girl, who simply didn't know the magic words, sit?
Was I a pushover because I simply couldn't say no even when I was busy?
Was I a pushover when I gave the last piece of candy to a girl who ate all of my previous chocolates?
Was I a pushover when I went along with everything the boy I liked said even though he didn't have the right to bully a younger student?
Was I a pushover.....?
Was I?
Was I?
I simply block the memories.
I am NOT a pushover.
Oh?! What? You want to go out with your friends but you have class duty?
Yeah sure I'll do it.
As I was saying I am NOT ......
Oh my.....
Damn.
***
Chloe wrote this little piece of writing because she cant stand pushovers. Pushovers who don't know that they are being used is sad to Chloe.
So Chloe took a stand when she saw her classmate being pushed over. She made the pushover say NO.
And she said NO....
.
.
.
To Chloe.
Somethings never change. Sigh.
YOU ARE READING
Of poems and thoughts
Poetry"My nana always told me. Lock your heart away before the big bad wolf comes to play. But what happens dear nan when I seem to have lost the key?" "Of bullets and shards. Of rubbers and ice. Of places and homes. Of broken ties that I cant seem to fi...
