Breathing dead boy
Blistered from the head down
Sails barely off ground
Tucked neatly in their lies
Fits perfectly in the cracks
Veiled like a pretty package
Laced ribbons and clean edges
Come closer
Turns up empty hands
Gazes sunken eyes
Scattered murky images beneath
Face filmed with playground dirt
Tiny scar tugging at the upper lip
Come closer
He is a little shadow
Ragged sneakers pointed inward
Hidden hands hooked in denim
Cast for the vultures
Come closer
See his tiny body quiver
Knobby knees clatter
Watch fear cloud his face
Swarming and biting viciously
Force to stop and stare
Touch what was stolen
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