A little boy was guilty

of writing letters and numbers

on his bedroom walls.

He was punished repeatedly

for these horrible crimes.

He stopped writing for a long time.

He was afraid to do anything.

His little soul was crying.

Pleading for help.

But nobody was listening.

The sad little child

grew up too soon.

He wrote angry poems

and hid them inside

his favorite books.

Books were his only friends.

They provided love and comfort.

But eventually their love

was not enough to sustain him.

He'd come up with a solution.

A permanent one.

He decided when and where

this event would take place.

He prayed and hoped for

some sort of miracle.

But nothing happened.

One dreary morning,

he wrote more letters

and numbers

in an abstract pattern

on his bedroom walls.

He smiled as he admired

his creation.

Then he removed

his father's gun

from his backpack.

The blood that splattered

from his wounds provided

the finishing touches.

He thought it was

a beautiful work of art.

His parents would be amazed.

Learn more about this author, Susan Kleinhans.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

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