He was not the bully at home,
But at school he was,
It made him feel good and strong,
As if it would cover up his flaws,
His flaws and weaknesses,
That his abusive step-father
Was sure to point out,
Like how he was stupid,
And would never be anything,
But a poor man,
Or how he was a cluts,
For tripping over his feet,
That he had not quite grown into,
He marked his victim of the day,
She had a stain on her shirt,
His step-father had made it once known,
That he was a slob,
That was his excuse,
For bringing out the belt that night,
Like so many other nights,
there had been a fight,
A fight against tears,
That would make him a baby,
A fight against cries for help,
That his mother would hear,
But pretended not to,
But it was not her fault,
She would be punished as well,
For speaking out,
He comes back to life,
Just in time to hear,
Her say hello,
No fear in his voice,
Like the other kids,
Mrs. Smith called them in then,
As he passed she noticed the bruises,
But ignored it has they sat down,
She would remember it the next day,
When it was told that he'd never be back,
Why hadn't she been brave?
The bus driver thought the same,
When he picked him up,
Not too long ago,
From being yelled at,
His mother thought the same,
When she was arrested,
She had seen the worst
Why can't people,
Look at the signs,
And not ignore them.