Like a pack of hyenas they gathered,
Their victim, helpless and battered,
Laying there, bleeding, in pain, on the floor,
Laughing, they hit him, then hit him some more,
Writhing in agony, numb from the blows,
Broken ribs, and a bloody nose,
As they kick him, and kick him, and kick him again,
Curled up in a ball, waiting for the pain,
To stop, for the hyenas to finish their fun,
His cries for help, heard by no one,
Still laughing and screaming, reveling in the joy,
Intoxicated with the glory, of beating this boy,
No holding back, nothing restricted,
No feelings of guilt, at the pain they've inflicted,
On their victim, now in too much pain to cry out,
As the hyenas, keep on... dishing it out,
The playground now a jungle, and ruled by its laws,
As he slips into unconsciousness, he feels no more,
Limp and almost lifeless, semi conscious, in a state,
A bloody, tattered, punch-bag, for them to vent their hate,
And aggression, covered in footprints, in a murky puddle,
Their laughing turns to silence, they've realised he's in trouble,
Their happiness and elation... turns to panic and fear,
The hyenas turn into scaredy-cats, they run away in tears,
Motionless, their victim... lays there, still and calm,
Then slowly, he starts to move, when he's sure he's safe from harm,
Wincing, he starts to raise himself, aching, bloody, and sore,
The worst beating that he'd ever had, but he knows there will be more,
He limps away to the classroom, crying, battered, and blue,
But he'll never say anything, that's a thing you just don't do,
It's a game they play at lunchtimes, something he's really good at,
A punch-bag for the bullies, and all because he's fat! Rock Rampant |
