Broken Boy

He comes home from school
on the weekends –
to the home he doesn’t really belong in.
He dumps his bag of used clothes on the floor,
throws his case gently into a corner,
removes his dulled shoes,
collapses on the bed
and cries silently into the pillow.

He is woken by screaming:
his mother –
telling him to work harder
and blabbering off a list of weekend duties.

His eyes are red.
His heart is bruised.
His life is not his until he leaves this hell.

He and They

Such a nice boy
Was he.
Until they chopped him down
They did.
Until he fell down bleeding
Yes he did.
Chipping away at his nice
they did.
Piece by piece he died
Sadly did he.
They made an example of his broken
They did.
Martyr for nice martyr for real
He was.
They destroyed hope, those people
They did.