I stood there and faced him, his eyes were dark and cold,
His face was coarse with anger, rage had taken hold,
He stooped to grab a weapon, my eyes locked onto his hand,
My gaze was broken for a moment, a fearsome punch he did land.
A searing pain ran through my face, and my head in turn did spin,
His evil eyes and deathly stare were now an evil grin,
As I hurtled back more pain I felt across my hairless head,
My world turned into darkness I feared that I was dead.
They say your life flashes before you when faced with such events,
It’s fair to say it’s true, of that there’s no pretence,
My brothers in arms broke my fall and dragged me from my fate,
They battled on without me as I lay in my unconscious state.
When I started to come round, my head was spinning like a wheel,
The taste and sight of blood, and pain was all that I could feel,
My brain was saying get up man and help your brothers out,
My body was saying ***** you fella your down and out for the count.
As I lay in pain and coming round on a grotty lino floor, a vision I did see,
An angel known as Gracie who had come to tend to me,
She soothed my brow and comforted me while in a bloodied heap I lay,
The others were still working hard to keep my evil foe at bay.
Now whilst the scars and bruises are fading and life I guess goes on,
The mental scars are the scary ones, for those you struggle to outrun,
So this smiling laughing clown you know and feel safe to work longside,
Is trying to bounce back in his darkest hours the part he feels has died.
The moral here is an aged one, and one we can’t forget,
The band of brothers we work alongside are the best we ever met,
So when your sat up on the 2’s on your seventh cup of tea,
Just remember the laughing clown and raise a brew to me.
A poem about an assault I suffered whilst working in Her Majesty’s Prison Service..