The victim was not me;
the boy at the fist’s destination,
the boy without his school tie

He was the real victim,
unaware that his pain had
crept into my life,
that his fear and unknowing,
had caused me to sink into a daily-daze

He was there
I was there
At those times
In those places

The answer, he thought
To his unenviable question;

“Why do neither of them want me?”