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Sticks and Stones

He sits alone,
his music playing,
in the dark,
he plans on staying.

Dressed in hurt,
Overlaid with tears,
His blood; the pain,
he's felt for years.

Always thinking,
Sticks and Stones,
yet has broke,
more then bones.

Pushed and Pulled,
kicked around,
his true lament,
yet not a sound,

He sees their taunts,
sees their faces,
Through out his day,
even resting places.

He sees them now,
Looking shocked,
he sees them now,
their eyes all locked.

He will end their taunts,
He will end their laughter,
It will all end now,
as I swing from the rafter.