STIGMATIZED I rode the "short bus" all the way home
as depression hovered like a dome.
It whispered my name, silencing all.
How could they hear echoes of my fall?
Every seat occupied yet alone.
Just a little kindness, they could pay.
Smiles of mockery shined on the bay,
caressing stigmatic stones that hurt,
when thrown like blades within words they blurt.
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