Horace's and the Last Day of School.

Horace's and the Last Day of School.

Hello...so sorry. I was about to write some prose about Malaysian drivers, but gave up after realizing that having a lot of things to complain about doesn't readily translate to something that can be properly structured in a lame poem. This is something that I've just come up with...the beginning of the Ode of Horace.
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Horace was an ugly boy,
He was fucking fat.
Ev’ryday the kids in school,
Would all say “there’s the twat!”

“A twit?” he asked vehemently,
Ignoring their wild hoots.
He picked the smallest of the lot,
Stomped on him with his boots.

“A twat!” said Shirley Jenkins,
A girl a-half his size.
“You’re so fat the earth can shake!”
With that, he gouged her eyes.

“Who else wants a piece of mind?”
Asked Horace to the crowd.
Up came Jon the jock-to-be,
His pose so tall and proud.

He tried to lift Horace free,
But Horace would not budge.
Jon looked in fear of being jumped,
Fell victim to a nudge.

Horace pumped his fists in air,
With a victory roar.
“I am king of the schoolyard!”
This statement they abhorred.

They prepared a final strike,
They had to bring him down.
How can a social misfit,
Be worthy of the crown?

Then they tried their best in vain,
For Horace was a tank.
He then dug them into the soil,
And underground they sank.

This brief tale shall now be closed,
And now we’ll move away.
Tell the jocks and drama queens,
About Horace’s last day.