Suicide

As he hung there from the ceiling wondering how to get down

He kinda felt like a clown 

Someone being laughed at,

Yes he finally did it and got it over and done with,

but who will remember him, who will remember that kid,

the one they used to make fun of as he walked into class 

a little bit late looking like an arse 

with the jacked up bag, sitting down in the corner of the room

with his homework done, 

at the front of the room is the master of the pet, pile of apples given by this kid

his mum told him to get

apple for the teacher, who knew, it would give him 10 minutes of punches after school

its cruel, the world that we live in, with such an odd schooling system

with bullies that drool like hungry dogs for blood

And he will come home with bruises on his face and his arms

and say it happened in art when he was washing his pallet

the color purple and violet smudges 

and his mother would shrug and carry on with the dishes and hitting the meat with a mallet

and as this little kid walks upstairs he sees some rope on the stairs

and he stares

and he reaches for it and makes for his room 

cowering in the corner like a broom, used only for work with no other contact,

hugging himself tightly making him compact 

Like a picnic blanket, 

those were the days

Before school began 

when holidays ruled and the sun ran through the streets everyday 

wishing him good morning, and good evening

Those days were gay and great

but now the only thing that was gay was his clothes and his rucksack

or his hair and tied laces

or the glasses on his face, “your a fucking disgrace”

he was told by the shadows and by the shadow of his drunken father

as it sat in the couch shouting at mother

But now the silence envelopes 

ears and colors envelope eyes

and nothing can be seen, not the whites of the eyes, just blue sky

and though a mother cries, as she says her goodbyes 

this kid can do nothing but float 

even that rope, just left behind, still hung to the ceiling like a dummy with no feeling

Sad truth is he will meet those bullies in heaven or hell 

and when he does, they will laugh at him, for not being stronger 

for he is weak, they can tell

“Your a fucking disgrace” will be his tattoo, written on, by his bullies and father 

and now also his mother, and his friends, by socialists and troops

and all of societies groups