*Wham* goes the bully’s fist in the face of his resistor as blood spatters like a stepped-on ketchup packet and the boy falls to the ground stunned to the entire schoolyard’s silence as every iris stares unblinkingly at the bully a bubbling frothy madness grips them and they charge, mob-mad and babbling a first grade pack of wolves to beat, punch, kick the struggling form of the bully (shut-eyed, terrified) he’s dragged to the monkey bars the kindergarten gallows and promptly lynched, hung until his gagging convulsions quit. A squealing childish cheer erupts and the kids go back to their games.
Hopscotch feels great after rebellion.

More of a freewrite than a poem. And I think it would fit in the category of dark humor.