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Authors Note: So, I'm no poet, but in my creative writing class we had to write ekphrastic poetry (poems based on other art), and of course I used one of my favorite parts of Battle Royale as inspiration. I feel super weird posting a poem and not a fic, but I figured it was worth putting up. Also, any poets out there should feel free to make suggestions!
I should've known when you washed my hands,
when you cleaned off the dirt,
when you picked the rocks out of my skin.
That's when I should have known.
I should have known that I could always trust you.
When you told me to give you my hands,
when you cleaned them caringly,
not saying a word, soothing me with your touch.
When you wrapped them up,
that's when every doubt should have vanished.
But I never saw you in those moments,
I only saw myself, small and weak.
I saw me, a burden, standing next to you,
someone who never needed anybody.
A man who could only get held back by others.
I've never been anything less than a wreck.
Someone known for taking a joke too far,
for never being more than average at anything,
for always needing someone to help me.
For always depending on you to be that person.
That's all I saw when you started acting suspiciously.
I saw all the times I fell short and you didn't.
I didn't see how you always laughed with me,
how you always helped without me asking.
I didn't see how loyal you have always been to me.
I remember now, too late, being in your room
when you were dusting off your trophies.
How it was your kindergarten basketball trophy
that sat up front. How you held it so carefully,
it's chipped yellow paint threatening to fall off.
I asked you why it was the one up front.
Why not the most impressive one?
You just looked at me so confounded.
It's my favorite. It means more.
It's the one that keeps me going.
No matter how many trophies I have,
no matter how many times I win,
this is the one that really matters.
This one represents my potential,
This is the one I'll always treasure.
I see now that to you that trophy is me,
That you love me for being there
back when people weren't always there.
I see that even if my paint chips off,
you'll still hold me with care in your hands.
I don't know a lot about God or religion,
but I know that Jesus washed the feet
of those so far below him. That he made them
feel equal when they didn't deserve it.
I know he saved them like you wanted to save me.
If I could go back I would wash your hands,
even though you didn't need me to.
I would see you without trying to compare.
I would wipe the doubts out of my mind.
I would be the person that you imagine I am.
But it's too late to go back now,
The end has hit too early.
There is no time to give you what you deserve.
So I just hope you know how sorry I am.
I should have known when you washed my hands.