The Tables Have Turned

A Kid roamed free on the streets last week, Doing mean and illegal acts, He apparently robbed a corner store, But nobody knows the facts. He never bothered to go to school, For the past – what – seven years? Instead he smoked illegal drugs, And drunk too many beers. He looked like a fifteen-year-old, And went by the name of Kyle. He used to rob so many stores, With GTA 5 style. He was an orphan since he was 8, And he went mentally mad, Ever since he ran from council care, He couldn’t help being bad. He had nobody to look after him, Because he had not a friend, He never realised that in 2015, He would meet his end. A gang of bandits ran up to him, And pinned Kyle to the ground. They tied his hand behind his back, And robbed his every last pound. Then Jim, the nearby farmer, Pointed his gun at Kyle’s big head, He knew that in a moment’s time, He was going to be dead. Beads of sweat were rolling down As tension built and built, He wished that he was back at home, Wrapped up in his warm quilt. Then Jim pulled on the trigger, BANG! Poor Kyle flew back. And landed in the middle of The farmer’s own haystack. And yet he still was breathing, He somehow had survived, In the distance were some sirens – The cops had just arrived. He went to school the next morning With not a cigar in sight, He contributed in all the lessons, And was rewarded for being bright. He made some friends at lunchtime, Because he had just learned, Not to be mean or bad – As now, the tables have turned.