They both got on,
Looked down their noses at me,
One girl one boy,
And sat two rows back.
Whispering and gossiping,
I really didn’t care,
Then his voice picked up,
And then I ‘eaves dropped.’
No no don’t judge,
I know I shouldn’t have,
But I couldn’t help it,
Though I didn’t gaze or stare.
He began to brag about a girl,
And how she grew so fond,
Sent a four page text,
Dedicated to love.
He sent back ‘that’s nice :) ’
He said it with a smile,
He said it with a grin,
He clearly enjoyed hurting her.
He revelled she was fourteen,
The girl with him scoffed,
He was playing a mean game with an innocent fourteen year old.
Simply out to hurt and oh how proud he felt.
He pretended to like her,
He even led her on,
He pretended to have a girl friend,
Just to make her hurt.
Apparently she cried,
And cried herself to sleep,
It made me feel ill at their vindictiveness,
Whilst they sat there and laughed.
I got off a stop early,
In case I screamed or shouted,
Or muttered an obscenity
Or wished them into hell.
I silently asked myself,
‘Who take pleasure in hurting others? ’
I pondered this mystery,
And then a thought occurred to me.
I shouldn’t eaves drop!
© Michael Woods July 31st 2009
Michael Moorcroft
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/assholes-on-a-bus/
