Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they all belong to JK Rowling. The poem was inspired from a poem I read a couple of years ago.
His name was Harry
And this is what happened
When he was alive
His Aunt was a drunk
His Uncle abusive
They kept him
Locked in a cupboard under the stairs
His only friend
Was a baby blanket
It was old and worn out
And had holes
He always talked to it
When no one else was around
He would wrap it around himself and hug it
Without a peep or sound
Until his uncle
Unlocked the cupboard door
More and more pain
He'll have to endure
A bruise on his arm
A scar on his face
Why oh why he whispered to his blanket
Did he have to live in such a horrible place?
He grabbed his blanket
And softly cried
He loved his uncle
But he wanted him to die
Such a bad life
For a small child
Then one night
His aunt came home drunk
As hours went by
The little boy was repeatedly hit and slapped
Then his uncle suddenly
Grabbed for a blade
It was rusty and sharp
One that he made
He thrust the blade
Into his small chest
While shouting
"You deserve to die
You worthless pest"
They walked out
Leaving the boy slowly dying
He grabbed his blankey
And started crying
The wizards showed up
At the house
They quickly barged in
Dumbledore slowly
Opened a door
To find the sad little boy
Lying on the floor
The aging wizard finally
Realized it must have been bad
For the savior of the wizarding world
To go through so much harm
But at least he died
With his best friend in his arms
