Little Timmy

Little Timmy

Little Timmy alone with a book, Not a whisper, a stare, a cough or a look. Pretending to write and not even care With his head in a book and gum in his hair. The playground is full but no one see’s Little Timmy approach or hear his plead. Along comes a child, big and wild And charges through Timmy small and mild. But Timmy don’t fall? But whimper’s a little. Dragging his feet, Timmy walks home, No one to talk too, he’s all alone, A lady hears from across the street A boy crying and falling to his feet. Before she knew it Timmy had gone……… Under a truck where he didn’t belong. People whispered, stared, cried and looked, And inside his bag lies his personal book. Inside the book displayed Timmy’s fear Of going to places where bullies were near. Under the truck lay Timmy in blood And a heart on the floor empty with no love. Soon after Timmy’s death, people gather around, To say their prayers and confront what they found. But no one can repair what has been lost.............. A life time of abuse and death was the cost. Stop Bullying!