The Boy Who Became King

The little boy lived his life in his world of writing and reading.

It kept him safe, oblivious to the mental and physical beatings.

His heart was wrapped tight around a steadfast and stubborn will.

He has remained himself through it all despite everything still.

A devilish smile dances across his thinking lips.

Smiling about a memory playing back like old movie clips.

It was supposed to be a tyrants chance to show he was the "King"

The man became weakened the minute the BOY stepped into the ring.

It was cold and snowy, with many inches on the ground.

As a means to get the boys out of his sight, a chore had to be found.

"Go outside and shovel" he barked like a tiny yippy dog.

One brother put on his boots, but the boy stood as still as a log.

You see my mind and body was tired of being pushed around.

All these years of trying to break my will have failed. I stood my ground.

As I stand there defiantly un-moving, he seems to let out a hiss.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks. My response "Christmas!"

He ran across the room in a fit of rage.

I pushed a button. I rattled his cage.

He hauls back and hits the soft spot on the top of my head.

Unfazed, I stare back at him with eyes wishing him dead.

Seeing no fear in me he hits me twice more.

He is enraged at my lack of emotion, angry to the core.

It is the sight of rage so purple being displayed on his ugly face.

That is when to my side my brother did the race.

He grabbed me, moved me to where my boots were.

He tells me later he was afraid about what was going to occur.

I know with every fiber of my being that I had on that day I won.

The man knew from that day on, no damage to me could be done.

It was a standoff, a battle, and to the victor my honest, and good heart.

I kept it, I preserved it, and now we will never part.

I'll cherish that memory and savor it for as long as I live.

That one simple lesson to the dethroned king; I did give.