Battered child small and frail,
Unknown to him left a trail,
For brutish older boys,
To lead them to their new toy.
The five guys left in cover of night,

Little child gave no fright,
To many places help to find,

But all kids and adults hated his kind.

Battered child, small and frail,

Was seemly destined to fail,
Reality held only that pain,

He feared he would be maimed.
Under that day’s darkening sky,

And in his hand a good pie,
He decided to do what seemed right,

A vow was made to learn how to fight.

Battered child, small and frail,

Decided from his house to bail,
He left for the mountains so rocky,

And for a man with a checkered hankie.
Hankie man would teach any their fill

If they had good pie and a strong will,
Thankfully or not hankie man would teach him so

That is the art of fighting foes.

Battered child, no longer small or frail,

Grew into a fierce and strong rail,
Decided to give those boys a punch,

That makes a man lose his lunch.
Those rough boys drinking beer on the floor,

Were unaware of hate that entered the door,
Five bodies littered the dance floor dead,

Skulls and ribs were broken with faces full of dread.

Sadly battered child, small and frail,

Let the hate in him prevail,
Fueled by the rejection of others,

They could have called him a brother,
Memories that could have been dear,

Instead left him with fear,
Lesson is treat all the hurting with some care,

So one thrives as smoothing good and fair.