1 min read

Unhappy children T

he freaks, the losers, the ones left behind

Middle benchers, translucent to 

The eyes of expectations

They turn into drops 

Of precipitation, a sheen over teachers lips

As she spits out numbers, single digits

Forever branding 

A writer, a dog whisperer, an athlete 

Unhappy children 

Societal failures, miscarried foetuses of

Hopes and dreams 

Oppositional defiant disorder fakers 

Teacher, you stand where once stood their

Angry fathers 

Detached, they 

Fall like pieces of shredded paper 

Unhappy children 

A frostbitten finger 

Amputate gently 

Expect the expected 

A punch, a slap 

‘Mother, why won't you love me? 

Or do you love me too much?’ 

Unhappy children 

People pleasers, bootlickers 

Quietly harbouring 

A brain on the brink of nuclear meltdown

 Collapsing in on itself 

Powdered, roasted, French pressed 

Liquefied bitterness, watch them blow 

All the unhappy children, let's take a bow.

Etti Kotnala is an Occupational Therapist currently working at a child and adolescent mental health clinic. Also a freelance writer, she often finds herself gravitating towards giving a voice to children, however small it may be.

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