part 1 of 5
Fearing separation
from his mother,
He held on to her
hand with a firm grip.
Happy sounds of
children became louder,
As both approached
closer towards the classroom.
They were greeted by
a pretty lady,
Inviting both into
her large classroom.
Loud sounds escaped
the room as they entered,
Both began talking
amongst each other.
The security of his
mother’s hand,
Released her hand
seamlessly from his own.
He felt the pretty
lady take his hand,
Then walked him to
the other children.
The pretty lady let
go of his hand,
Nervously, he waved
bye to his mother.
He heard the laughter
and listened for words,
But couldn’t quite
understand any words.
Being shy or
insecure, maybe both,
He was often found
playing his lone self.
He was then
redirected towards group play,
Where he continued
playing with others.
The pretty lady sang
songs and played games,
Helping the children
become school-ready.
He was excited to
speak, read and write,
In his newly learned language
of English.
By now, your preying
eyes were on this boy,
As the bully boy, you
savored your prey.
Bossing the rest of
the children around,
It was your rules;
who, how and where they played.
Many yielded to each
of your commands,
Avoiding being
degraded by you.
Each holding back
tears in front of their peers,
They complied and
followed all your orders.
Being the new kid in
class, you mocked him,
Reinforced by your
herd, he stood alone.
Taking every punch
and verbal attack,
With no adult in
sight to break the fight.
Containing fear of
what may come his way,
He suppressed your
daily bully boy ways.
He held the pain he
faced all to himself,
Not even his teacher
or parents knew.
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