The spit of one can stain the many for years.
Drips down and sears your eyes and ears
as you struggle to gain your strength
to deflect the weight of his body’s length.
Your friends look on and laugh
As he spits another on your troubled face.
Making your spirit even more displaced.
So many lives lost under his watch.
To him it is good sport to make your life botched.
To take the wind out of you breath.
Take some of your life before your death.
Minutes, hours, years scarred into memory.
The name calling and time stalling.
You still think you will never be of any worth.
A black sheep, you continue your search.
So many do not survive, but collide
in the school hallways, lockers and bathrooms
that hide the abuse you endured while looking for a cure.
To be accepted by your peers, you veer
away from finding resolution.
You bottle it up and continue a growing delusion.
How many Columbines or suicides before we change?
How many lives not fully lived in exchange?
The strong continue to prey on the weak.
It’s not to late for the lives of our children to be reached.
Subscribe to entries
Subscribe to comments
All content © 2012 by Byron King