Pain.

 

Running around the classroom,

Were children ages six to four,

Drawing, playing, talking,

On the tables and on the floor.

A teacher called for all the kids,

To take out a newspaper,

Find some different animals,

And stick them to a sheet of paper,

A young girl with black hair stood up,

And ran to sit next to her friend,

A boy by the name of Nathan,

And together they cut out noses and tail ends.

Content with their pile,

Of dogs, cats and fishies blue,

They went up to get some,

Sticky tape and Clag glue.

Nathan went for the glue,

But the young girl opted for the tape,

And later she would look back,

And know that it was decided by fate.

As she cut the length of tape,

On the row of jagged teeth,

She accidentally caught her skin,

And the blood began to seep.

With silent footsteps and a small hand,

She tugged the teachers shirt,

“Miss I’m bleeding.”

“But it doesn’t really hurt.”

The teacher freaked out anyway,

And immediately got a band-aid,

Wrapped it round her finger,

And told her to stop using the tape.

When the little girl sat down again,

Nathan was awed at the colour red,

But she was focusing on the pain,

Somewhere deep inside her head.

It hurts, she thought to herself,

But not as much as the other things,

I wonder what would hurt more,

The teeth or the pull of heartstrings.