He looms, Colossus-like, beside the gate,
appearing larger than he’ll ever be.
He’s just a puffed-up playground potentate,
a page in self-repeating history.
He never lacks for awestruck underlings
who’ll vie to hold his coat, or for a crowd
to view experiments with insect wings
and laugh at little girls who cry out loud.
The lucky children later go to bed
in loving homes where comfort is reward
and wonder what it meant when Daddy said,
“They’d rather be despised than be ignored.”
And in the silent depths where shadows reap
a toll, the bully cries himself to sleep.