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Once there was a young boy, who in gas was doused. Trying to find his way home, he stumbled into an abandoned house. He looked around for the light switch, and then he found it at last. But he'll wish he didn't find it, for this sight is quite vast. Faces of all his lost friends strung abroad, hanging on the walls, covering the halls. The boy was horrified, unable to stand, just at that moment he saw a man. He wore a tall black coat, a black hat and mask; he had a special little room where he sawed people in half. With a demented smile under his mask he started pulling the boy. "You're a new experiment" he said while dragging him like a toy. The boy tried to fight, but was sickened by the sight, all his friends dead, what was the point in life? He was laid down on a pile of bones; with a weak yell he said “No... No...” Just as the man was about to commence, there was a noise out by the fence. “Of course something happens when we’re at the best part! If you don’t stay here I’ll tear out your heart.” The boy started to jerk at the ropes he was binded by, one by one they started to untie. He broke free but the man was coming back, out of options, he reached for a match. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!” The man said violently, the boy simply said “in hell you will rot with me.” Astounded by this statement the man now saw, the boy was covered in gas and the match about to go off. “You’re a Goddamn lunatic!” The man said, at that moment he tried hitting the boy in the head. “That isn’t true.” The boy said “But if I’m going to die, you will also be dead.” With one more frivolous attempt at grabbing him, the match struck his shirt and in flames they were scorching. Both of them burned, first the boy then the man, but he didn’t die without a final stand. He stood his ground and was seen as a hero. Especially to his parents, who in his death were engulfed by sorrow. The death was tragic but life moves on. In death is life, and he will live on.


(Forgive me if this seems a bit worse than my usual poems, I got bored and decided to write this in the library during lunch at school. My poems are usually better with rhyming and story line when i have a little time to think. I hope you like it anyway, thanks for reading!)
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