The bully once more, steps out the gate
He looks around, and finds his bate
His eyes say that, he can’t wait to greet
The disabled child, at the end of the street
He starts running, not thinking if it’s fair
Before the child knows, he’s got him by the hair
In a flash, the child’s wheelchair‘s thrown
And his bag and books, are all badly torn
That night, the child goes home with fear
He sits quietly, his eyes full of tear
The next day though, the bully’s away
The teacher sighs, and starts to say
“last night, a car had an accident with Greg,
He’s alive, however, he has lost his leg”
After that, the bully was never seen by the gate
You decide, if it was coincidence or luck or fate