childhood sonnet, for RB

This was a hard one...writing a proper Shakespearean sonnet - iambic pentameters, trad rhyming scheme, 'turn' after line eight 'n' all that. All based on a childhood incident. 

This has taken a few days and I'm not happy with it...I found following the form,  particularly the rhyme, meant losing any poetry at all...

Still, here it is, for what it's worth...

His hair was greasy and his nails were black,

His legs were spindly and he wasn't tall,

A threadbare blazer and an ancient mac,

We called him names, the oddest boy of all.

He played his part of course - the classroom clown,

Sucked up to teachers, always good in school,

And in the playground ran and ran around,

Spoke like a robot, acted like a fool.

We followed him with laughter, unprepared

To see the child behind the mask it seems 

For no-one told us it was strong to care,

We carry guilt, he haunts my sometime dreams.

Children are cruel, and crueller still those days -

And he who calls the tune one day the piper pays...