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From the Closet

A boy, sixteen,

Like he's seventy.

Things he's seen,

Bares with levity.

Two eyes, too young,

To be witness

To a crime

That's so hannis.

Still he talks,

To his family.

Recalls the day,

All this happened.

Just eleven,

Saw the burglar coming,

Kicked down the door

Took mom to heaven.

Dad ran in,

But had no chance,

And in a moment

His life had passed.

The boy was left,

In the closet.

Held his breath,

Untill he lost it.

Tears streamed down,

Dropped from his cheek.

And out he ran,

While he weeped.

The killer noticed,

And quick two shots.

The boy was hurt,

The bad man dropped.

The sirens heard,

Police had come

To save the day.

Cuffed the man,

Took the boy away.

But alas,

The boy's still haunted,

To join his parents,

Was all he wanted.

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Written by
seth-connor-jackson
American
Published
Mar 26, 2012
Lines·Words
41·140
Permission

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