Childhood, the best years of our lives?

This poem is in honor of Penny Pyle,
An overweight, homely, outcast child.
Her classmates dismissed her, called her a loser,
This gave them permission to daily abuse her.
She always sat alone, she had no friend,
Penny tried to hide and prayed for the day to end.
Her school day started with taunting and jeering,
She'd silently weep because of the hate she was hearing.
Penny hated the name she was given at birth,
She felt it summed up her meager worth.
Her classmates just didn't agree,
They told her she wasn't worth a penny.
One morning she went to the closet and got a gun,
She held her head high as she walked in the sun.
She walked through the door and stood at the head of the class,
The teacher said," Penny, what are you doing, may I ask?"
Penny brandished the gun, the class started to scream,
All eyes were on Penny, it was like a bad dream.
Penny said," I want you all to know, how you've hurt me!"
" Why couldn't you have left me alone, just left me be?"
" I want you all to watch and remember this day!"
" And realize you were the reason Penny Pyle blew herself away!"
Then she smiled and put a bullet in her head,
Penny Pyle was no more, she fell to the floor dead.
Everyone denied that they had been unkind,
Penny was just a nut case, that finally had lost her mind.
The the class moved on, electing another loser,
This of course, gave them permission to daily abuse her.