He Can't Go Home
A silent rustle
Deep in the undergrowth
Causes a young boy to spin
Eyes maniacal
Beneath the angry mask of savagery
Someone come take him homeHe follows the rustling
As it turns into the pitter-pat
Of little footsteps
The boy grins
He's ready for bloodHe's been here too long
Someone come take him homeBut no rescuer for him
It's not something he needs
He's a huntin'
He spots his quarry
He pounces—knife raisedHe's been here too long
Someone come take him homeBlood spurts across the jungle
The rich moist soil
Sucking hungrily the sticky red fluid
As the boy with the blood on his hands
Smiles in triumphHe's been here too long
Someone come take him homeIt's too late now
As the life leaves his prey
His innocence goes out with it
The body falls to the ground
He looks at it, realizesHe's been here to long
He can't go home
AN: The poem is roughly based on Jack...in case you didn't pick up on it at
the end, the prey is originally thought to be a pig but might be another
kid...Ralph maybe (evil laugh) In case you didn't notice I really have it in
for Ralph, book would have been better if he had died.