Kids running around the playground, impatiently awaiting the morning school bell;
For some children it’s simply just another day of learning, but for little Timmy it’s just another day of living in hell.
All the other children are busy playing, whilst little Timmy stands alone in the corner with his head facing down;
No smile shines across his face, just a worried looking frown.
Nobody to talk to, just the weight of the world sat on his 8 year old shoulders, a struggle no child should ever have to bare;
Nobody to guide him, and nobody to care.
The playground is so noisy, but when little Timmy opens his mouth all that comes out is a silent scream;
Bullied night terrors keep him awake at night, when all he wants to do is dream.
A childhood full of darkness awaits him, but how could this be, he is only 8 years old;
The sun is no longer shining, as he just stands in the corner feeling the cold.
His watery tears roll down his cheek, before splashing down to the ground;
As the morning bell rings out the kids run indoors, leaving the school yard with just an empty eerie sound.
Little Timmy is the last child to walk through the door, just before he enters I see him look towards the sky;
I guess for him there is no point in looking back, as nobody is ever there to wave him goodbye.
BARRY MOWLES ©2012