The Bully
I was playing in the schoolyard
when i was ten years old
Playing baseball with my good friends
though it was very cold.
Suddenly a circle formed around me
the Circle of Death its name
I was in the middle with the bully
everyone knew of his fame.
The only way to break the circle
was to fight the beast inside
I looked around for a teacher
but they just liked to hide.
The crowd was cheering wildly
it was blood the were looking for
I knew there would be no satisfaction
until i was crying on the gravel floor.
My Grandfather was a boxer
he taught me to keep my hands up high
I fended off a dozen blows
then i popped him in the eye.
He was raging like a mad bull
he tried to level me with several blows
Soon he became very tired
Thats when I bloodied up his nose.
He fell down on his hands and knees
I could see tears falling from his eyes
The crowds roars came to a quiet hush
It seemed they were surprised.
I walked over to the bully
I extended to him a helping hand
He seemed genuinely embarassed
As I pulled him to a stand.
We became good friends in coming days
The Circle of Death no longer bringing fear
Years later i stood at my friends gravesite
Those memories i hold so dear.
Copyright © Carl Fraser | Year Posted 2013
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