*This poem is for Will, a mate of mine that got beaten up a while we were walking it was two mates, him and me. We were walking and they attacked him. Not us because we were girls, but he got hurt real bad, and it made me more depressed and I feel bad about it, so I’m writing a poem for him, he will probably never see it, but this is for him….*
So they real think were low?
They think they can beat us to the ground?
They think that a knife is a suitable thing to show?
To make us run away, to make us frown…
I mean I know, I know were different,
I know were not your taste,
But why do you get so violent?
Why do you attack my friends?..
We were walking in the night,
Enjoying the winter breeze,
And suddenly you’re there,
Calling us all sorts of things…
You think it is your place to be there when were hit,
You think it is your job to be the person behind the fist,
Well it makes me really mad, the way you walk around,
After what you did the night before,
After you touch my friend…
I remember the look on your face,
The blood pulsing through your body,
The way you got so angry and kicked him in the head,
And when he was on the ground,
You could not get enough,
So you kicked and kicked till he was in the middle of the road…
We made him run away,
We tried to sort it out,
I was screaming, I was angry,
I wanted to let it all out…
We took him to a house,
A house that my mate knew well,
We knocked on the door,
And still you came and punched him in the face…
You wanted more..
My mates took him inside,
And I stayed out alone,
You came back again, saying you wanted him dead,
I made you go away…
Please just leave us alone…
So you started off home,
A few mates dragging you along,
I stood for a few seconds,
And then I knew it was wrong…
I drew out a knife and I stormed after the group,
I stayed behind you all,
So you could not see the blade,
I followed you for about an hour,
And there you stopped,
You made me want to cry,
The way you giggled to yourself…
The blade was nice and sharp,
I knew that well and clear,
For I had used it that morning,
They knew I was here?
I looked at the bush and ran to its cover,
There I stayed and cursed,
Sobbed, about all that had happened,
My reflecting in the metal, the metal in my hand,
I made me want to be sick again,
Can you understand?
I went back to my friends,
Not cutting myself yet,
I couldn’t do it now, that would just be unfair,
I knocked on the door,
And my mates greeted me with worry,
Will was on the couch,
Blood dripping from his nose,
I wanted to give him a hug,
But I felt it not the best time,
I sat next to him,
And made sure he was fine,
Will are you ok now?
Will don’t blame me, I feel its all my fault,
Will I’m sorry for it all,
Will please don’t make me cut…
