A Little Boy Poem by Heather Schroer

a little boy
about the age of three,
stood in a parking lot
and pointed at me

so young, so innocent,
society has taught him,
stained now, drained now,
society has ruined him

full of thoughts and ideas,
only a few are good,
he would save himself
if only he could

blonde hair, blue eyes,
and skin so fair,
if only she knew
his mother's heart would tear

a little boy
about the age of three,
stood in a parking lot
and pointed a gun at me.