Ouch, they hurt a boy. With fists and knees, and fingers that gouged, and mouths that spat, and steel toe buttock targeting projectiles, and warm crooked smiles, and oblivion obsidian eyes, and no heart in chests, and no kind words in head or on tongue, and tight grip on undies, and ball sweat smears, and bruise makers of various objects, and teachers uninterested, and a young heart just dead, and a sad world for all when all you think exists is you.

I want a life back, from before whence I winced, I want a hugging universe with softness enclosing me, brunt free, forever.