In her early years in grammar school …
other students treated Lucy like a fool.
She wished to be part of a peer group,
but the others, to that, said: “Poop! ”
Actually that is a bit of a lie, and …
if you are patient I’ll tell you why.
In grammar school, the formative years,
the other students brought Lucy to tears.
It wasn’t what they said to the lass,
but that they NEVER SPOKE TO HER in class …
OR out of class for that matter, SOOOOOO …
years later [their brains] Lucy did SPLATTER …
over the walls and floor [of a dance hall],
AND she really didn’t feel bad about it …. AT ALL!
Yes, Lucy left her Daddy a note and took his gun.
She went to the dance for vengeance, not for fun.
They SHOULD have listened, they SHOULD have spoken.
NOW, because none of them did, their lives were broken,
but Lucy felt BETTER now ….. that she’d paid them back,
even though off to prison, Lucy, the bobbies did pack.
Now she spends each day in solitary confinement,
punished for her deeds, and lack of refinement.
NO fellow inmates OR jailers now speak to her, BUT …,
instead, they give her strange looks and do [her] abjure.
But Lucy doesn’t seem to mind her solitary life AT ALL,
as each day she bangs her head and scratches the wall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem