You gossiped around
And you put him down
Since he wasn’t as rough
Was in no way as tough
As other guys were acting
You continued the trashing.
Bullying is always in fashion.
Alawys some wimp needs mashing.

His clothes were impeccable.
You found that despicable.
He kept himself neat and clean
You did with that something mean.
He was good at sport games
You reviled him just the same.
He got high grades in classes
Still you all acted like *****.

He won awards, your taunts tripled,
It couldn’t be worse if he was crippled.
We can see now his incipient fame;
You never let up with the ugly names.
An A student, who never did wrong
You let bullies lead you along,
Another poor schmo for you to dismember;
What do you suppose he will remember?

Will you suddenly call him friend
When school and the torture ends?
Will you go see his lectures and shows?
Isn’t that the way it always goes?
Suddenly the bullies are good guys?
And you think nobody ever catches wise?
Go on and hope that is how it goes.
He’s an elegant guy. So, who knows?

Pushing my bike up the hill as others ride up it.
Their eyes both laugh at me and judge me.

Deceit lies there, among the roses,
blooming in the weeds;
slugs sidle up the leaves
where the dormouse breeds;
and nothing gently lives here
where the sparrow haunts-
within the shadows that voles fear-
the breeze that whispering taunts.

I'm just a dreamer under the moon
Etching out lines on a paper, no one knows.
They see me in another world,
Far off, aloof, distant and forlorn.
You look at me, with the eyes of a spectator,
Do I look so funny to you?
Can you see these sad eyes,
Watching you make no difference
As you go on with your taunts
And poorly worded chants?
I'm a dreamer, with a world inside my head
I can create a magic, within.
Then bring it out with just some words.
I am a dreamer, under the moon,
Penchant to writing,
Adding colors and dimensions
To dimly lit corridors,
To green fields that
welcome the morning sun.
Painting darkness and light with
The subtle strokes of my mind.
Sculpturing a woman or a man
Their life, and all their strife.
I am a dreamer, under the moon
The pen, to me, is definitely
*Mightier than the sword.