literature

Little Boy Death

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Literature Text

Once in a small bedroom,
Sat an elementary boy.
He didn’t want to bother with games,
Or any toy.

This boy spent most of his days,
Locked away from life.
He just sat with his anger and misfortune,
So tempted to pick up a knife.

He hated his life,
He hated his story,
He craved this world,
With a little less worry.

Death was his best friend,
Honor was his enemy,
Crying and screaming,
Became his melody.

His parents were dead,
His uncle is a druggie,
He would love this world better,
If it were thick and bloody.

Because one day,
When he comes out of his room,
He hopes to see everyone dead,
Covered in crimson and tense with doom.

But until then,
All he has are the scars on his wrists,
And his murderous hate,
For people he can’t fight fist to fist.

A boy with such thoughts,
Shouldn’t have a dream.
But within this child,
Things aren’t what they seem.

He sees humans as beasts,
Who want everything cheaper.
He just wants to be the prodigy,
Of the Grim Reaper.
Another one of the 447 Writing Prompts: #318- The Little Death.  I swear this challenge is so much fun to do!!  If any of you want to do it the list is in my favorites on my profile! (Really lazy to get a link..) 

I am REALLY proud of this poem, I think it's one of my best ones!! :) 
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Comments2
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Storming777's avatar
Amazing.
I love that last part.
Dun dun DUN
Whoa.