Wow. I'm getting my inspiration back. I guess all I have to do is be tormented by my class and I'll write poetry. How ironic.

Wild child

A knife in red,

A corpse in bed,

Frightened faces,

In unknown places.

Bodies lay,

By the bay,

A small child,

Sadly gone wild.

A head filled with torment,

From angel's were sent,

In one hand a gun,

Glistening in the sun.

Evil thoughts,

Gunfire shots,

More bodies found,

From the child no sound.

A mother in tears,

A school filled with fears,

Of this one child,

Who sadly went wild.

That was.... Violent. I'm becoming so evil. Next thing you know I'll be doing that the poem says. Hehe. Just kidding. Please review.