They called you Robbie.

That wasn’t what I called you back at school.
You had a different tag back then, with friends
and you and I were eight. You played the fool
at my expense in front of all the kids.

I want to hurt you

and now I have the chance. You’ve no idea
how often I returned to your assaults
that time. The sound, the looks, the memory’s clear
from frequent re-rehearsals ever since.

And now we’re older

I stop. Your face has sadness. Looking coolly
you don’t see me. I see your life is written
on your shoulders. A life of being a bully
with humour made you suffer more than I have.

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2 Responses to “Robbie”

  1. Hey. I met (and apologised) to Kyle Robinson a few years back. It was tricky but interesting.

    I can’t work out who this is – any further clues?

    BTW – some thoughtful and welcome posting on the show. I always read and enjoy your posts man.


  2. Hey, thanks!

    Yeh, I could reveal the subject of the poem but best not. I saw someone working in a shop in Chessington, that coulda/mighta been the person in question, which sparked the poem – I was quite surprised by my own reaction, actually.

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