Tuesday, February 7, 2012
He stands alone,
Surrounded by the crowd,
A torrent of noise bearing down on the boy,
Beating right into him,
The focus of the shouting.
Those who once did,
And those who still do claim,
Those who still do claim to be
Stand aside, now part of the crowd.
The noise crushes his spirit in
Waves of raw hate,
And eyes peer down from windows above.
They come from all corners and scatter the crowd,
Just two minutes too late.
Still he is alone,
But remains the focus of attention.
Forgotten, for the moment, by the mob.
Instead questions rain down on him,
Making him think about it all over again.
Tears are held back and the questions stop,
Although not quite satisfied by the
Quickly thought up answers.
A bell rings and he is returned to the room where they sit,
And there it begins all over again.