Making Faces

A new girl, a new boy
a rare fresh supply,
the cause of darting eyes
and spit on the tongues
of watering mouths old enough
to enjoy the taste of blood,
and sighting its draw to savour.

Taunts & jeers,
offered hands, withdrawn
a long elaborate ruse
of schoolyard bartering, gifts
and crushing blows,
improvised on a rolling
downhill slope
that ends in a burst of laughter.

A pair of hopeful eyes
begs with pleading looks, please,
to not strike, to not wound,
but soon enough spill their helpless tears
down cheeks that wore a brave smile
only that morning, if not much longer.

Their best efforts only doomed to failure,
this is the way of the world,
I believe it, sure.

Redeeming my sins
with some small kindness
each day, a smile, a wave

I know better now,
as I knew better then,
still I ask
Forgive me, forgive.

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