He used to walk the halls as a lowly boy.

No friend or companion in sight, only his sorrows by his side

You could see his pencil lunge into his notebook each time he wrote

For what was he writing? Only he truly knows.

He was gossed by the people above him in the chain, his screams were loud but it was all in vain.

The day came where the boy had enough, like a metal rod he truly became tough.

The day was the same, being tossed around like every other .

But he grabbed his fist and his wit and launched it at his aggressor.

Blood settled into the walls and so did the shock on the student’s faces.

The boy turned around staring blankly and everyone’s faces.

His spirit had awoken like no other, like a phoenix rising through the ashes.

For now on, he will be the one giving the trashes.