A narrative poem about a boy names Tarker that is bullied relentlessly. He finds a friend, but soon learns that even that cannot spare him from the cruel world he was born into. Stop bullying...
Children,
The most vulnerable of us all.
So innocent and sweet,
Set up most to fall.
But children can be mean,
And vindictive too.
They don't know what it means,
To make others feel blue.
This is a story,
Of one with no friends.
No pride or glory,
Just school and pretend,
To be happy...
His name was Tarker Voghn,
And he was 13 years old.
His self esteem had gone,
As if it had been sold.
He was picked on relentlessly,
By all his classmates.
Didn't want to even be,
Around for life's long wait.
He went to school,
And came home bruised.
He was everyone's fool,
Always being abused.
And home was no better,
He worked all night.
His dad a farming go getter,
Whose son never left his sight.
Between his school beatings,
And dad's relentless slave drive,
His anger had been feeding,
And his will took a dive...
One day after school,
As he walked himself home,
Some boys came so cruel,
With sticks made of chrome.
They planned to beat him,
With their baseball bats.
Walked around to greet him,
Looking to beat him flat.
Tarker fled,
And the boys gave chase.
But this boy had a good head,
And found a safe place.
It was the base of a large tree,
Hollow and bold.
Inside he couldn't see,
But he felt safe in the hold.
As he sat there panting,
His heart so fast it was flying,
He heard the boys outside ranting,
But in here a small crying.
He said hello,
Is anyone there?
Suddenly a lighter glowed,
And he saw crimson hair.
