Bench Boy

 
I met this little boy today
He smiled then he winked
Looked so full of mischief
Very nervous and twitchy
He is on is own; benched
He doesn’t realise that he
Is being subtly singled out
He knows already the fear
He’s just not really sure why
There as a lot of fog and
Shouting and screaming
Swearing and growling

It’s a shame he is not psychic
But would it make a difference
He’s a child with no power
To affect his parentage any
In a sudden flash slow motion
Film reel of the next 10 years
It strikes terror in his heart
He loses his smile terminally
The time for laughter is over
The torture is about to commence

About one year from this
Taken photograph he experiences
His first cold bath, his first cigarette
He is not smoking, just burning as
Cigarettes are put out on his back
He screams – told to shut up
He cries – told to fuck up
He sobs – asked if he wants more
He stares in silence and is left alone
To nurse his cigarette burnt back
He gets out of the bath but is
Punched full bore in the face
“Where do you think you’re going
Ya nasty fat little fucker: Sit
He sits in silence hoping it’s over
Then he is kicked in the face
He only remembers waking up
In an empty bath like a stranded
Spider; he tongues his teeth
Counts three missing, tries to
Find them for under his pillow

The boy on the bench has a long road
To travel with many evil men in Sunday
Suits starched shirts and bow ties
I look him in the eye and tell him
That he does make it and at 13
He will rebel like a force of nature
He forces a smile, he forces a wink
I don’t tell him about his adult broken
Heart and his life as a fuckin doormat
I don’t tell him he’ll have no legs
Because that would be so cruel
I give him a hug – he cries
I cry, we all cry in chorus
And walk towards the light