I saw images of the blood covered child,
I wonder how he had survived trapped in the wild.
His eyes were all red from no sleep,
He had cuts all over him that looked really deep.
I walked closer to him and touched his hand,
It was not soft like mine, It was rough like sand.
When I looked to the left I saw a cardboard box,
Inside of it was leaves and weird shaped rocks.
It was probably the boys so called home,
It was out in the open, He was free to roam.
I guess being free isn’t as great as I thought,
This poor little boy must of really fought.
He looked so chilly, cold to the bone,
And most importantly this little boy was all alone.
The images went faster and I saw him on the ground,
After that one image I couldn’t hear a sound.
It grew so quiet, the images grew dim,
The next thing I saw was him torn from limb to limb.
My head was pounding as the images passed through,
I was so confused and so unsure of what to do.
I wondered if I saw a real boys life and face,
I wondered if these events I saw really took place.
I went on the computer and found out that this had really happened in the past,
The little boy had died, and my images wouldn’t last.
When I saw no longer I went to bed, still thinking about the little boy and how he was dead.
