His tears, his tears are filled with fear.
His eyes, his eyes are replaced with ice.
They left him, hurt, on the ground,
Just to see him wobble around.
They called him names,
And spit in his face,
Now he’s had enough.
With all the words and actions,
Said and done
He heads off to his home, in a run.
He gets to his room,
Grabs a blade..
Taking a deep breath,
He watches everything fade away.
He’s almost done, he says last one.
But this one stings a bit more.
The outline of his world is blurring,
He collapses.
Now filled with regret,
He uses his last breath,
Praying and hoping to live another day.
-Justin Thorne
(This is ow key an old poem I wrote when I was like 10 or 11 years old, bear with me here)
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Not only is this extremely intense for a ten year old to write, it deals with complex themes (and the writing isn’t bad). I would be interested to see how the poem would turn out of you wrote a second draft of it now.