Every gang of kids has one, our was named Dean.
He pushes into the crowd
Trying to be part of the circle,
Talking ‘cool’
Or ‘tough’,
Although he is neither.
“Wanna see my knife?”
He wheedles,
As if that were enough
To make him a man.
When they joke
He sneers.
“That ain’t funny,
Let me show you funny.”
And then he falls
On his face.
No matter the subject,
No matter the speaker,
He is a seagull
Dropping his waste
Over everything they have,
Incensed at his exclusion.
Alternately gruff
And ingratiating
His failure
At joining the ‘In’ crowd
Eats him thin,
So he tries again
Using the same techniques,
Expecting different results.
They laugh at him
To his face
And behind his back,
Keeping him around
As a jester
Without giving him the freedom
Of a jester
To speak his mind.
Dean? I recall another….name… 
Very well expressed and written. 
-M
Ditto with booguloo – anti-bully Nicely structured poem – it caught the full scope of the situation.
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