Q.

A poem I wrote about a character a while back.

There was a boy, his name was Q.

His eyes bright green, but thoughts so blue.

He crashed his car into a ditch, 

and burnt his face down to a crisp.

Nowadays he wears a mask, 

and what lies beneath none dare ask.

He never speaks and never lies,

never hears and never cries.

If you meet him, know this true,

he is but a person;

like me or you.

Author's Note

As with all my work, I thoroughly enjoy constructive criticism & welcome it wholeheartedly.