The Pecking Order

THE PICK OF THE BUNCH

Dark imprints left on me,
by this school playground,
grey scraping at skin,
deep red puddles of pain,
yet today's clamouring children
look so innocent.

We were like starlings,
I was the pick of the bunch,
alone, defeathered,
if they fell they bounced,
but when they pushed me down
they’d taken my cushion
of self-confidence away.

We were starlings
so the phase passed,
the thugs lost interest
in their random cruelty
but even though they left me alone
I'd been reduced,
stayed sparrow size.