Knock on the head, shoved to the floor.
Punches to the face, chasing him as he runs.
Philemon, Prosper, Phillip pursued Paul all the way to his home.
Predators they were, but to his mom, this fact remaining unknown.
Morning sun, flaming torch, but he refused to get up.
Bitter honey, being alive, but under steady torture.
As a Lion chasing a buffalo, the hunt would continue.
He would have to constantly hide as school resumes.
Drip drop, water droplets dripping from a tap.
A tap he just put off after washing blood off his torn lap.
Nay nay nay, he promised himself he wouldn't retaliate.
But the pain he is feeling, slowly washing that decision down the drain.
"Hey man, why don't you keep this knife in your bag?"
"You could get back at them this time"
Heavy words from his little mind.
"Calm down, calm down", I think I can hold on for a little while, he resolutely replied.
"Murder occurs at No. 6, Spencer's Street" filled the headlines.
The news spreading like wildfire in harmattan.
Boy stabbed repeatedly, carcass resembling a Lion's leftover.
Murderer's name, Paul; pleads guilty, said he acted in self defence.
✍🏾Kremlin
Well done Kremlin
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