Stuck on Paper

Done for a competition, a short and bad one.

'Boy disappears, no trace.'

Read the headline of the papers.

No-one had seen him go,

As he went away in the snow.

I knew this boy,

He went to my school,

We were never close, 

But here I am,

The only one who knows the truth.

No murder or suicide had taken place,

Just plainly the boy had ran away;

But not an ordinary case,

Not at all,

For he had given up the race.

No, 

He wasn't really dead,

Just stuck on paper,

Just his head.

He was always confused,

Moving too fast,

Everyone around him would change,

And yet, he could not.

Now he's frozen on a page,

Left to drown in memories.

A snug jumper clings to his frame,

And yet no heat can he feel alone in pain.

No tear can he shed,

Although he bled.

His hair stays straight,

He's still the same weight.

Locked in a cage shall he remain,

A picture,

A photograph,

Looked upon for years to come.

He was always confused,

Moving too fast,

Everyone around him would change,

And yet, he could not.

Author's Note

Once again, done late at night Some of my worst work, but I don't really care, I'll publish it anyway.

Sorry in advance for any typo's or grammar mistakes.

This was done for the competition, the picture is what the competition was for.

Reviews

[Angie Diane♥&hea..]

I really think that this was an interesting piece. It is advanced and very emotional. I really think this was excellent. I really think it was awesome. I don't have much else to say, but thanks for sharing. :D

[Angelauthor1204]

Wow...so deep. It's professional but there's a little tweaking need to be done. Just a teeny tiny one...but for the record the poem is lovely. And for an 11 year old to be doing this sort of work is entirely amazing. I look forward to see you continue.

[Devons]

A somewhat mythical and philosophical telling of a mysterious, almost legend-like tale. It has a symbolic nature to its meaning, it seems; recalling all those images of lost children and missing persons that are never found. Their images remain the same for always to everyone else, and perhaps even a picture of an 8-year-old boy who went on to live a normal life and die at the age of 80 would still be a lost boy when looking back upon the photograph that captured him in his youth. And I think this poem itself captures that feeling rather well. It could be interpreted in several ways, in fact, which is a good thing to a reader - the nature and sense of the writing still sustaining its effect. Very well-written, and with a deft, tender touch.

[Kes]

Hey, Rosy. Look who signed up!
I like it. Kinda creeps me out, but i really really like it. Stop putting yourself down!
I write anything in the middle of the night, half asleep and totally out of this world - it's not always a bad thing.

[Nic]

I really liked this poem. Something about it gets to me, but in a good way. Looking fore ward to reading through the rest of your stuff.