Position

A story about a little boy and the cycle of abuse his family goes through. This poem is intended to attack the social order of society and make a stance on bullying.

As if he could have hid it.

Who could have?

The bruises on his arm were quite obvious.

They had grabbed him.

They had hit him and yelled in his face, saying horrid things

that no one should ever say.

And I don't mean curse words.

It was much more personal than that.

The bruises weren’t just on his arm.

They were all over his body,

and in his physique.

As if this was a game.

As if this was how children were supposed to play

on the playground.

The teacher must have thought it amusing

when she told his parents that

this was simply the way that children behaved.

She must have been out of her damn mind

if she believed that was in any way convincing.

And the school did nothing about

what had happened.

Why, you ask?

Well, his parents weren’t people

of high position.

Oh, god no.

They weren’t the top of the food chain,

they could have never even come close.

They weren’t related to any of the

school faculty,

they had no upper hand on the matter.

And when you don’t have a high position,

the school doesn’t have to care about you.

And so that boy took the beatings,

and it toughened him up.

When he became a man,

he vowed that he would never

let his children go through the same thing.

But they did...

And he was just like his parents.

Normal, average people,

who could never really afford anything dreadfully expensive,

and who never had a high position in

the city, the county, or the school.

So his children were forced to take the abuse too

because that is how children play, right?

And so the cycle continued,

all because of that boy’s position.

Author's Note

I am open to any kind of criticism, harsh or otherwise. We need criticism in order to grow and become better at what we do. If you have any questions about this poem, or any of my poems, or about me in general, feel free to ask.