Making Of A Killer

I look at myself, figure in the wind,
A fraction in your life, for now,
To you, I am but an annoying pest,
An unnoticed fly on the wall,
You laugh at me, you poke at me,
To you I am only a toy.

You giggle as I walk, a limp in my step,
For the left thigh is beyond healing,
To you, you will never set eyes on me again
As soon as we leave this place,
I will become history, memory and myth,
Or is that what I am now?

I cower at the back of our class,
You snigger, smirk and gossip to each other,
After all, I am just a figure of comedy,
And comedians live in the moment,
Who knows what they will do next?
For that is their act, a masterful art,
Indeed, I am starting to master it.

So laugh at me, ignore me,
As I stand, lonely outside the group,
Prod at me, make fun of me,
And make me quite upset.
All I can say, after you hurt me and upset me,
"You'll see. Yes, unfriendly friend, you'll see."

And so, here we are now,
Reminiscing of those schoolyard years,
Why, weren't we innocent and young?
Didn't I warn you? Oh I warned you well,
"You'll see," I said, long ago.

And now, do you not see?
As I stand over you, I never lied,
Mask on face,
Finger on trigger,
And a hole between your eyes.
All I can say is, "I told you so."