They sit in authority of the weaker ones,
these bullies, stirring up their daily measure
of chaos they tuck away with a grin when
they’re alone. That is where they rule,
in their lonely caves, those empty husks
of echoing superiority. It is the echo
of their own voices. They’re sustained
by these grating noises, assailing all
but their own senses, dissolving the resolve
of those too weak to strike back alone
against these straw monsters. But straw
will change to smoking ash when we magnify
a heavenly light upon these stupid demons
who don’t realize they’re tinder for hell.
Poem #19 in Poem-a-Day NaPoWriMo 2015. I can’t abide a bully and, if I could, I’d see them all burn a bit for the sins they commit on those not strong enough to defend against them. This poor free write is what came to mind when another instance of bullying crossed my beam. Wish I could do more.