July 21st

I’m thirty two years old and I was bullied yesterday
In an aggressive thuggish cockney way
They seemed to be angry about nothing at all
Shouting swearily during a game of football
I didn’t think this kind of man existed
It seemed that evolution had fully resisted
These men lack that certain inner beauty
They were like characters from a Guy Ritchie movie
They were scary men with tattoos to match
Will did well to escape with all limbs attached
Maybe it was a show of brotherhood
Maybe they are just misunderstood
They were gentlemen who were big and strong
And society had somehow done them wrong
Then the ball came to me and I started running
Managed to avoid one tackle incoming
I was proud of myself but all too late
Got clouted from behind by his Tyson-like mate
I came away with a scrape on my knee
And worrying looks from the referee
In my mantra everyone get two chances
So I brushed off myself and his furious glances
The next time I got the ball, I tried to run again
Played the ball around then he did the same
His grunts and moans were his verbosity
I’m sure he’ll be pleased to be the subject of poetry