Four-eyes

Iron rod dragged along by arms pale and scrawny
that had been twisted too much to hold lunch money.  

"Teacher, teacher, the school jock beat me, it hurts!"
"Didn't I tell you to do something about those warts?"

Creaky door opened by shoulder still fuzzy  
from when that boxer's son whacked it bloody. 

"Little shit, get outta here, I'm pissin'!"
"Just one second, I need to do some killin'."

Broken tiled floor painted scarlet and yellow
by the cello-playing nerd, no longer mellow.

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