Rebel

See the frozen look on their faces
Mouths agape with shock,
Disbelief straining at extremes.

To think their most promising prospect
Would turn to this
The trouble they went to
Moulding
Shaping
Teaching
Imbuing with their morals

Only to turn out a rebel
Yet worse, the epitome of their despite
Scorn incarnate
Filth engendered

A hoarse gasp “Why” escapes one soul,
Anguish their common bond
He turns slowly, blood caking his broken cheek
Smiles softly, ironically
“They know not what they do”
He whispers to no-one
Bows his head,
Breathes no more,

Hanging raggedly limp.

They shuffle and the crowd thins,
They leave to bear their own yoke
Splintered crosses of guilt
Blame
Regret



Copyright Pierre Nunns