Lee

• Connor Gleason, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2004

Lee was walking up the stairs
Thinking about his life.
All those thoughts in his head
Hurting him like a knife.
Not knowing of his father
Nor ever finishing school,
He visited a Psychiatrist
Not knowing why life was cruel.
Finally he got to a room
Where he would do his deed.
He sat next to a window
Knowing that he would succeed.
He waited for a car to pass
And shot a man in the head.
Lee walked out that room
knowing that J.F.K. was dead.