Masked and dusted just as before.
Few saw and no one cared.
We just let the blood dry there.
Deep as a rusted chain
Resembling a rose hath since came
Beauty paints the fueling desire
Painful as the largest fire
It quickly spread across the tile floor
Left the children crying “More.”
Later it will be a tale to tell
Told in rhymes for the faintest spell
Warning those beyond regret
Of children’s monsters that they let
Not a fairy tale you say?
Of the haunted memories gave away?
It’s a child’s game.
Four square is just the same.
Taking spots in a line
Saying that the next happens to be mine.
But child’s games leave no blood
Washed away with the flash of flood
Gone as quickly as it came
But not in the memories is it the same.
For the incident didn’t leave a trace
No blood did it ever chase
The proof didn’t come till after
As loud and still as a child’s laughter
Painted on a knife on the bathroom floor
Masked and dusted just as before
Few saw and no one cared
They just let the blood dry there.
“I wrote this poem after we had a small hazing at our school called a ‘Freshman Beat Down.’ Only some students were hurt, but not to the extent of getting the bullies in a lot of trouble. Some of the kids used excuses such as: ‘We were just kidding’ or ‘We were just having fun.’ I wanted to make the point that bullying is not a game, and it hurts those involved not only physically but mentally as well.”