Target

There’s this girl who left a boy a scar Times have flown years gone far One small cut how it didn’t heal In a corner of mind the story lives still. Mid sixties noon a war was on School was closed days forlorn Mind gone dead as summer wind blew Longed for what it really had no clue. There was this girl a breezy butterfly Pretty and petite was quietly passing by The sight of her skin just below the skirt It drove the boy to throw a stone to hurt. As his idle mind came under devil’s grip Took a quick aim threw her a basalt chip But as was destined written was his fate It flew past her widely missing the target. She paused on her track her eyes burning ire Glanced once at him lips curled spitting fire Sparks flew in his eyes his match he had met Below eyebrow the scar he carries to this date.