strip colour from his whipped soul,
to tensioned skin and beyond.
His haloed aura
shooting sulphorous, searing flares,
purpled haze of rage, a scarlet maze,
nothing muted in violent
whippet thin lips
twsting, ‘fuck you’s’, to all,
his sundry, motley enemy
of stunned football laughter and giggling girls.
Absent abundant charm,
gone with his glorious smile.
in the shortest of longest moments
before the tears,
blind, burning anguish
of a silent voice,
forbidden to reveal
the cost no child will willingly pay.
Souls warping nicely for future
Blessed, burnt souls –
the child sacrificed –
on the altar of adult
the same reasonable rage.
All our sins.
2 thoughts on “A Schoolboy’s Sins”
Brilliant, Anne-Marie: incredibly powerful, beautifully written and sad, xxx
A very sad little boy, Ali. So many like him will have crossed your path too, no doubt. Teaching is sad some days.x
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