What have we here?
A shy boy who wouldn’t swing
When all the other monkeys played,
Who didn’t like to speak
In case the others laughed and brayed,
Who didn’t quite fit in
With the other boys in school,
And ducked and dived
And hid from sports
When he couldn’t grasp the rules.
The boy who missed the girls
While he hid within his room,
And couldn’t speak when they were there
In case they spoke his doom
And wished and dreamed
For something more
Than others would assume.
The boy within the man
Who argued to the end;
The man of right and wrong
Who fought the standard trend,
And stood up for
The little things
That no others would defend.
The sad pathetic loser,
The one who had no friends,
Fought the fight for all of us
While we scrabbled to ascend,
And, at the last, the misanthrope,
When he could do no more,
He stood beside his principles
That he learned so hard before.
He watched the so-called good
Sell out their souls for lies,
Either to themselves
Or the devil in disguise.
He stood for truth and honesty,
And was typically despised,
But now he’s gone,
We’re all alone;
Slaves we realise.
