The Sharper Edge

The bus lurches, a kid trips, hard.

His books scatter. The laugh,

a snarl, a little guard.

My stomach drops, a sudden scar.

I saw his face, that flicker of shame,

and it hit me, a burning, bitter flame.

My own sneer, sharp and quick to bite,

in the school hall, under fluorescent light.

By the lockers, I pinned a gaze,

delivered words in a hateful haze.

Watched him shrink, his shoulders fall,

my victory, small, yet standing tall.

That dull ache now, a truth I own,

a seed of cruelty, savagely sown.

How easy to forget the wound I gave,

how hard to unbury what I couldn't save.

That kid on the bus, just a mirror,

showing me my own old error.