[A/N: I tried hard to capture the emotion and horror of the story; I hope I succeeded]

The Picture

A child named Tom,

How I remember him so!

Sat quiet in class,

Not moving to and fro

Through the window

A picture made its way to his lap;

This blonde headed girl

Made him swoon like sap

She wore a white sweater,

Like Ivory and Snow;

Her jeans crimson red,

When blood starts to flow

She had a nice smile,

With a beautiful pose,

Her fingers formed a peace sign,

That accentuated her nose

Tom was instantly awestruck;

Who could she be?

She searched the school,

But the girl he couldn't see

He scoured the neighborhood,

In lieu of his quest

Still no one knew her,

Despair started to infest

When he got home,

His parents he questioned;

The name of the girl,

They did not mention

Tired of his search,

He resided in bed,

When s slight gust of wind,

Blew her over his head

It flew out the window,

And landed in the yard,

He wasn't going to lose her,

No, he'd worked very hard

As he bent to pick it up,

It glided on the road;

He scurried to reach it,

Being as weak as a toad

He took her and smiled,

Said, "You flew very far"

Because of that intimate moment,

He did not see the car

The car hit poor Tom;

"Why my love?" was the words he last said,

As the driver got out,

He was already dead

The man looked at the boy,

He tried hard not to hurl,

He saw a picture in his hand,

The picture of a girl

With her white sweater,

Like Ivory and Snow

With Jeans crimson red,

When blood starts to flow

She had beautiful blonde hair,

Her smile pretty and carefree,

But instead of two fingers,

She was holding up three.

[A/N: So, waddaya think? R&R please!]