Torture and Dismemberment 12 – 01 – 03

Little Joel snapped up from his sleep, he was awake.

Nervous sweat, fearful twitch, a sickness he must fake.

“Another day of school, what a fright!”

He declared as his face drained and turned a pale white.

His head was buried beneath the covers,

Getting late, his mom came in, above him she hovers.

“My dear son, get up! Get ready for school!”

He cringes and bellows, “I can’t go back. She’s twisted and cruel.”

“Every morning she awaits with a sinister grin.

All night she was up scheming, and now a sound lights her face, prompts the day to begin.

With her first words all hope of a nice day is dashed.

The clouds outside turn dark with doom and a bolt of lightning is flashed.

‘Looks like another day without recess,’ she wickedly cackles.

Out come thick textbooks placed before us like iron shackles.

Open your books to page one hundred.

Furiously fumbling till we reach the page, breathing heavily hoping she won’t slice off our head.

Across from me Mark cannot find it.

She crooks her neck and sneers, ‘Why can’t you find it you stupid twit?’

His eyes enlarge and his face crumples in fear.

Slowly his eyes swell and down drops a tear.

‘Boy hurry up!’ She gleams, her face is filled with pride.

Finally, he finds it. In disgrace, his face does he hide.

As we read aloud, her icy corrections leave us hurt.

She calls us one by one we sit fearfully alert.

When the story ends, she hands out tortuous busyness.

Reams of worksheets kill the mind and our hands are left crippled, cry out in distress.

Lunchtime finally arrives and we must eat in silence.

No talking allowed, even chewing too loudly is quite an offense.

The time trickles slowly, my mind drifts away.

Outside the clouds break, beating on the windows the rain does spray.

My brain writhes and my head spins.

I begin to break as she stares and grins.

In her grasp she has got me.

I am scared. I am afraid. I must flee.

She waddles over with a raised eyebrow.

I cannot escape it so humbly I bow.

But the bell rings at last as she moves to pounce.

Disgusted she turns, to the clock her eyes bounce.

When she turns back to me I have already departed.

‘That was too close,’ I mutter and I know her complete control has now started.

So I linger in the bathroom until she has gone home.

To the classroom I return, I am free to roam.

I grab the worksheets and language packets,

Then the literature books. I have no regrets.

‘Liberation at last,’ I cry as I exit the doors.

The pelting rain stings me and the wind roars.

All is done! Nothing remains!

I am free from her tyranny and her metal chains.

Then feelings of doubt fill my head, ‘What have I done?’

The rainstorm clears up and out comes the sun.

That is my story mom and I’m sticking to it.”

“Oh really?” Mom inquires and my stomach drops in a pit.

My calendar on the wall has today’s date marked in red.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to school because that big project is due today instead?”

Jason A. Muckley

Dedicated to Erika Habicht

- Her silliness and encouragement

help me get through rough days.

- Passionate Educator – firm

believer in Torture and

Dismemberment