Young Writers Society

Alex DeJule was a very young boy
When he saw his father killed before his eyes
He soon realized that life was not a toy
And everyone would die

Well, “mama” he cried no matter how hard
The dark still shined within his heart
With no help and no life to live
He took the knife and stabbed his chest

He bled and bled on the sidewalk that night
Where his father once laid and his mother once died
And was content that he and his father
Now would have the very same death

He was only 12 when he did this and the paramedics let him live
Being released onto the street yet again, seeing what life is
He realized he was not meant to die but he was meant to kill
He grabbed his knife walked into the night, ready for a thrill

Poor Alex covered by night is blind
Not of eyes but of the light
He walks off into the dark night
Knife in hand ready for the fight

He planned all of the ins and the outs
Of the streets in this old town
In the alleyway he stood in silence
Waiting for someone to come

Cane in hand, a suited man tread across the blocks in dark
Alex, adrenaline pumped, lunged at the figure, attacking like a shark
But with quick speed and reflex the suited man revealed out of his cane a knife
And there on top of the man lay Alex dead in the cold night

The suited man unscathed, unharmed knew of our dear Alex well
For he was the very same man who sent his parents to hell

Poor Alex covered by night is blind
Not of eyes but of the light
He walks off into the dark night
Knife in hand ready for the fight