So I generally don't write poetry, but I had to write a poem
for American History last semester. So I wrote one about Reid.
Oh the poor child
His pain never mild.
He's always in trouble
Though he tries never to meddle.
His pain always great
His genius mind in a state.
Confusion and fear
And betrayal is here.
His heart fills with fear
And nightly with terror.
As horror after horror
Runs through it's filter.
Shot in a cornfield
Dragged out by his hair.
Taken to a barn
He nearly died there.
Beaten and bruised
He gave them the clues.
Word after word
But only one understood
One understood
And cracked it in time.
To save a life
And bring their youngest home alive.
Two years later
He's nearly been healed.
They fly to New York
To find a serial killer.
They don't know who's next
So they take to the streets.
They don't know who's next
Till one goes up in heat
They don't know why
Only that they may die.
They don't know who
But it could be you.
Was the child the target?
Will he die again?
They've lost him already
Can they lose him again?
Now they don't know
They only can fear.
Will again they loose someone
That they hold dear?
They waited and waited
In deep agony.
There hearts in there throats
Which friend may now leave?
He's alright now
Only shaken and scared.
He's alright now
No longer afraid.
No longer alone
His family is near
He's got a circle of friends
And each he holds dear.