When punched in the gut, do you face reality as it seems or do you seem to drift off...

To destroying, ripping your enemy that stands before you in a thousand pieces or...

Do you feel the pain that ensures when the stomach has chiesled a hole in your intestines

Because he sees it as a relief to find his next victim, someone who has not balled their fist up at his pain, his trajectory, in his vision

Now bully has found someone that he can finally call his bag

His toys that his mother never gave him because she was busying playing with mulitple men while he quietly sulked in the door crying...

This boy didn't want to turn into a man yet, still a kid who was getting his lunch, hoping not to turn, twist and thrive his insides with anticipation of him hurling his breakfast and yesterday's dinner

I wish I could hurl it in his face...

Throw the lunch in his face, slam his face with the pan make his crafted, perfection of God a mere horror to look at...

But I stand there, staring at his face as if I'm communicating to him with my eyes hopin he sees my demise, my despise and desperation to have self-control

He's nothing more than a human...

But the kingdom allows animals to attack, hunt for themselves

Yet me retaliating would result in punishment, detention and embrassment

Or heroics...

He's a force to be reckon with but I try to calm down and tell the body of the school

Self-control won this round...

The kingdom would have to wait...

So it ends there, my fruitless journey to become a animal and destroy my oppnent

A child, not yet to become a man