I have very little memory of my childhood,
But I do remember grade 3
And a boy who’s name I cannot recall
The class’ clown; making the other children laugh with utter fear,
He was big and stood over me with his shaved head,
*You’re a ******* idiot* He whispered tauntingly
You are the dirt on my sneakers
I never really responded to his cutting humor
Except for that cold white after noon
When that eary bell rang with urgency,
And from the corner of my eye I watched
The flocks of children running for the school
Slipping and trampling over each other
Squeezing through the doors,
While janitors buttered the doorway.
We didn’t move.
He slouched over me with his thumbs sticking out of his pockets
His scalp was raw, and cherry red.
*I’m going to **** you.*
I said it making sure there was enough phlegm in my throat
His face lit up with a ridiculous smile
*I am going to ******* **** you*
He roared with laughter, and took me by the hair
Then spat in my eye.
And if it wasn’t for my instinct to live, I would’ve stuck him
With the plastic pen I’ve been sharpening for 2 weeks
Instead I tasted the strawberry jam wedged in the crook of my mouth
Along with blood that slowly seeped through the cracks in my lips
Little does he know, I have been plagued with madness
And I will **** him
…Eventually
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
I have very little memory of my childhood,
But I do remember grade 3
And a boy who’s name I cannot recall
The class’ clown; making the other children laugh with utter fear,
He was big and stood over me with his shaved head,
*You’re a ******* idiot* He whispered tauntingly
You are the dirt on my sneakers
I never really responded to his cutting humor
Except for that cold white after noon
When that eary bell rang with urgency,
And from the corner of my eye I watched
The flocks of children running for the school
Slipping and trampling over each other
Squeezing through the doors,
While janitors buttered the doorway.
We didn’t move.
He slouched over me with his thumbs sticking out of his pockets
His scalp was raw, and cherry red.
*I’m going to **** you.*
I said it making sure there was enough phlegm in my throat
His face lit up with a ridiculous smile
*I am going to ******* **** you*
He roared with laughter, and took me by the hair
Then spat in my eye.
And if it wasn’t for my instinct to live, I would’ve stuck him
With the plastic pen I’ve been sharpening for 2 weeks
Instead I tasted the strawberry jam wedged in the crook of my mouth
Along with blood that slowly seeped through the cracks in my lips
Little does he know, I have been plagued with madness
And I will **** him
…Eventually
© 2013 Bilal Kaci (All rights reserved)
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