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Matthew Harris | + Follow Poet |
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Bullied As a Kid

among the countless thugs
   that teased and taunted myself as a boy
who exhibited blatant characteristics
   of being painfully shy and coy
attempting to remain like a statue as a decoy
which tactic nada successful employ

but only incensed and beckoned
   like tasty morsel chronic unpleasant bait
to be pitted with words
   always feeling like an outcast 
   (of poker flats) without a date
populating school memories 
   of loathsomeness and hate

serving as token punching bag
   nearly the duration every year
of public school, which vicious name calling
   assaults upon me psyche did wear
away negligible self confidence,

   or internal rage that found instinct to veer
away from approaching fist,
   which knuckle sandwich from tier
of hooligans gave no surcease

   to knock this then introvert 
   on his head or scrawny rear
a lonely lad bereft of any buddy
   to stand close as bona a fide genuine peer,

nothing but dark shadow
   casting silhouette 
   per edge of night always near
one brazen dude named Lloyd Lavinsky

   hovered ever near
especially during recess
   at Audubon Elementary School 
   he did chase and lear
encouraging mob fiends

   to join in an additionally mock and jeer
which unprintable epithets, 
   I can still faintly hear
in tandem with that native animal fear

that found this then
   socially withdrawn second grader a targeted deer
caught in cross hairs of boys
   who seemed like giants 
   and fierce some as a bear
clawing at a scared little boy 
   plus hurtful words thru the air

which cruel barbs hurled lent convenience
   for me who stood stock still or crouched down
on ground intimating passivity
   and inferiority brought grimace and frown

to those who mimicked flaws,
   aside from being shriveled flower on lawn
included nasal twang
   from submucous cleft palate 
   defect that did spawn

speech impediment and obvious magnet
   for brutal beast
to relish, savor and feast
hoping to bring me to tears at the least

knowing this human docile scared dog
   would not fight back
fearing he might get beat
   to a bloody pulp for justifiably flack

even my late mother also told me
   to give brats a “what for” 
   with two fisted pack
that triceratops nasty gang 

   bulging biceps they did pack
who to this very day I bristle to smack
with an ole mighty whack
as if strength within transferred
   to computer Goliath body guard 
   manufactured by Sperry Univac.

postscript:

although just a infinitesimal dot
moxie this mortal got.

Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2018

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