To A Bully Poem by Amber Glistener

Hey you there with that cup of ale,
The things with that epic fail,
They will get you into jail,
Where you will get no mail,
And pee in a pail,
And feel no blustery, winter gale,
Bombard us no more with hail.

Soon you will grow a tail,
Like that old coot named Dale,
And his older brother Kale,
No matter if you are male,
Or if you live as a female,
The ocean you will no longer sail,
Where no longer you will spot a whale.

Do you not believe my tale?
Holding on to that rail,
Your knuckles are so pale,
And inside your throat grows a wail,
Hiding under that mysterious vale,
More scared than a quail,
As if you are stabbed with a nail,
And sitting on a lumpy hay bale.

Out of here you will not bail,
Not in a whole-hearty sale,
Here in this jail you have tried so hard to force me in,
But you have instead earned yourself a spot availed to me,
Now who has prevailed?