Let me set the story at the tender age of six,
When I used to get bullied by this little *****,
Some of the **** he did was pure psychotic,
That twisted that none of the adults believed it.
Adults (they) believed him, I was his bully.
Paid people to beat and threaten me, Haunted for years by dreams,
Wish I would get beaten so badly, they would finally see.
Looking back, they were nightmares, not dreams.
They would realise he was the one that planned,
Misery of my life, everyday something happened.
Imagine the richest kid, pays the others, so his hands,
Never got *****, he got away with his sick plan.
He still innocent to this day,
Its funny, people who are now my mates,
Still recall how much they used to get paid,
Laugh, like it was funny, it was okay,
Twisted *****, wish you were in my place?
No way, you know how much your heart, Was in this, you know your part,
Right now; I can have the last laugh.
Don’t ever let me catch you in the park, when there’s no one around and it’s dark.
I’ve got years of rage to repay to you for a start.
With a warped adult mind that’s attempting,
To repay what a damaged kid was experiencing,
You think I’m gonna just chuck you in that ******* bin?
Just after I do a few more nasty things.
© Emma Johnson 2010
(This is a fresh work in progress, It wll be edited/added to...any feedback would be greatly appreciated)