This was a response to last Wednesday's prompt from Poetic Asides - write about cruelty.
‘Silent Cruelty’
He was overweight, wore glasses,
Boys would tease him at recess.
Once they snatched away his hat,
Hid it, mocked him, called him fat...
Then had enough.
A wild bunch,
They tossed it on a tree branch.
I was there.
I saw all that.
When they left, I fetched his hat.
I smiled, and my smile was lame:
It was nothing, but a game.
I’ll never forget his eyes,
They accused, and they despised.
I was one of ‘them’ – the mob –
That would bully, torture, rob…
My fear to help was their fuel.
I was every bit as cruel.
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
I understand and am saddened by this.
ReplyDeleteBullying is an awful thing.
ReplyDeletewow heartfelt and well done
ReplyDeletethank you
Thank you, Hope.
ReplyDeleteThis is so sad!
ReplyDeleteQuite common, though, unfortunately..
DeleteVery well expressed!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mary.
DeleteA humbling read. Perhaps cathartic for the one who was a part of the bunch. Nicely organized and well rhymed.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comment, Kim.
DeleteBullying is an awful thing, Sasha. Nicely put together poem.
ReplyDeletePamela
btw, I hope you know I was joking over at Margo's.:-)
I do, Pamela, don't worry about it!
DeleteThank you for the comment, and good luck with 'symbolic metaphors' and 'metaphoric symbols'! :-)
powerful highlight on bully,
ReplyDeletewell done.
Thank you, Taylor.
Deletea very humble piece... truth and personal emotions brings wonderful poetry. I respect you for writing this and wearing your heart on your sleeve!
ReplyDelete~L
Thank you. It happened years and years ago, but I remember it well.
ReplyDelete