"The Bastard Son of John King"

I was always held back.
I couldn't hold my pen correctly.
I couldn't see without glasses.
Everyday at school
Was like a game of
Mortal Kombat.

I screamed in there faces.

"I'm the Bastard Son of John King
And your do well to remember that"

I was always picked last for football.
I was forced to wear braces.
I was clumsy and unsure.
I wasn't popular.
Like a ghost orchid
I was rare and obscure.

I was kind
And never beastly
I was sweet
But not weak,
not completly.

"I'm the Bastard Son of John King
And one day your bow before me"

When I tripped
I stumbled,
A grazed knee for a souvenir.
My hands ozing with blood
My eyes could not focus
Through the tears.

Scilently I recited
"I'm the Bastard Son of John King
And one day your all cheer for me"

Picking myself up
From the wreckage
Gave me power,
Inner strength
Just knowing.
In defiance
I recite the mantra.

"I'm the Bastard Son of John King...
...And my true face
is finally showing!"