Sins of the Sons
Victor Baham
I will never apologize to you without selfish intent,
But I hope by writing this I can partially repent.
Well to start, you were an easy target:
Quiet, smart, passive and awfully lethargic.
Started in second grade, now I can’t even remember.
I got ‘cooler’ and crueler with every passing September.
I could never get a reaction from you—I didn’t like that much.
Got my friends to up the ante, harassed you all of lunch.
We shattered your Lego tower. Craig called us to his office,
But we were relentless, man, his threats couldn’t stop it.
The last day I saw your Dad and got scared witless.
I swore he would kill me, and Mr. Willis would be my witness.
Instead, all he did was look at me with rage in his eyes;
I’ll remember that look until the day I die.
But you handled yourself well, stabbed a pencil in my finger.
The scar never healed; no wonder the feelings lingered.
Fifth grade was enough. You packed it up and you left.
But we just couldn’t let it go—stupid kids— so we kept
Bragging that we bullied you out of school,
Like that’s something to be proud of...like hatred is cool.
I had to get it back tenfold, experience it myself
Before I could really understand the pain you felt.
I sent an email, trying to make amends,
Then another trying to be friends.
I never was, and you didn’t respond. I’m glad you didn’t need it
Because when I sent it, I wasn’t sure how you’d receive it.
Now I know nobody is a perfect kid,
But that doesn’t justify all the crap I did.
I don’t want to remember,
Because I don’t want to regret,
But the memories I don’t want
Are the ones I’m scared to forget.