Death

My wounds are sore, it is a tale
fresh and raw, but seems of yore

I am hurt scratched and scathed
red lines cover flow down my skin
eyes wide big,boy so big
walking and running lost he is

His fault just one, wrong decision
aim was right but wasn't precise

Door of upstanding tall
pretty idol he stands
once mighty and proud
spreading his hands

Cheeky boy cries, it ain't no lie
he asks for death but cannot die.

Parents sit tight, he's their bright light
star of their eyes, hope of life.