Poor Kid

Poor kid.
I see the boy,
swing,
his fist,
sinking, melting,
into his stomach,
his head.
I cant help,
I'll be hurt.
So I watch,
in anger,
Poor kid.

Poor kid.
Blood drips,
from his nose.
His hands loose,
by his sides.
Defiant.
I step forward,
swing, whack.
He deserves it,
but still,
Poor kid.

Poor kid.
I hurt, I ache,
but he's worse.
I know, he's fine,
physically,
he doesn't hurt.
But I defy him.
I get up.
I face him.
And he can't stop,
'cause he's got,
worse problems.
Poor kid.