The little boy that sits across from you,
You always thought he was a rotten one.
He whined, and groaned, and screamed, and cried.
Again and again from the rise to the fall of the sun.
Here he sits today, staring at your plate,
Of the beautifully made lunch your
Mother prepared so you weren’t late.
With his greedy grubby hands,
He took your sandwich, and your apples, and your chocolate milk,
Till there was nothing left.
“Hey!” you shouted as the teacher walked by.
“Boys will be boys” she chuckled,
As you were left hungry.
It seems like this never stops,
As you aged into a woman.
“Boys will be boys”
Oh you hear it so often.
But your sandwich turned into your rights,
Your apples into your virginity,
And your chocolate milk into your freedom.
“Boys will be boys” they voice.
You don’t get a choice.