**Whispers Beneath the Roar**

In the dim hallways where echoes linger,
where laughter dances like sunlight above,
there sway shadows, unseen but felt,
the bullies, with their hardened gazes,
their voices like thunderclaps—
the storm before the calm.

They are warriors dressed in armor of bravado,
mighty as the tempest,
but deep within, beneath the bravado,
lie tender hearts wrapped in thorny vines,
fragile as the wings of moths,
burnt from the light they seek.

Each shove, each sharp word,
is a cry—a howl—an innocent plea,
translated through a language of pain,
for their hearts are oceans storm-tossed,
waves crashing against unseen shores,
waiting for the quiet whisper of understanding.

What monsters do they see in the mirror,
to cloak their souls in this shroud of bravado?
Through their eyes, a world of chaos reflects,
mirroring the judgments that fall like rain,
and in that tempestuous gaze,
is a story too heavy to bear alone.

They bully not because the world is cruel,
but because they are not taught the grace
of intertwining words and gentle hands,
how to mend what has been frayed,
how to...