The Turned Worm.

I'm sure it's happened, with various endings.

Where are you now mocker?
You of the hurtful jibe?
You whose game was making hell
A presence in my new school life
The world of then has been erased
And, turning, brought avenging days
Now I've a taller broader trunk
And you, my jeering friend have shrunk.
So you would like to call me pal?
You want me Bry and you be Al?
Now you would rather I forget
Your way with hurtful words
There was a time I would have rent
Your grinning skull from off your kneck
I could have took your living heart
And fed it to the birds

I was alone and insecure
A new boy in a strange new place
Needful of a few kind words
A helping hand, a friendly face
Alas my luck was to meet you
Whose need was but to hurt and shame
With many ways to bring one down
While explaining it was 'just a game'
When I look back I still can see
Your grinning face leer down at me
And all around the watching crowd
Some sympathy. Some urging loud
And you, you moron lacking sense
Playing to your audience
Making me in essence feel
Like dog crap on a new shoes heel
Unfortunately, for you, I grew
In stature and in confidence
Fortunately I also grew
In feeling and in common sense
So all your buddies standing round
And all the people waiting there
Saw me laugh, turn, walk away
And leave your question in the air