Just a little (unfinished) story in verse.

Jerry had loved comic books
since before he learned to read
The only joy for this orphan boy
He could feel the colors bleed

From home to home and different schools
Picked on and abused
He climbed deep into his shell
'till he was completely out of view

At just fourteen he ran away
Alone, afraid, confused
He found a job in a small cafe
But he was still abused

The waitresses were cruel to him
The other workers too
Except for one old cook
I believe his name was Lou

Lou helped Jerry find a room
on the southside of downtown
An old TV, a chair and bed
Where he'd lay his body down

Each night he'd come home after work
With new found energy
A bag he'd open on the bed
Filled with comic books to set him free

He laid them out so carefully
Didn't let the pages bend
Because the characters inside them
were his only friends

One night while he was walking home
some bullys circled round
They beat poor Jerry violently
'till his lifless body hit the ground

But he was not alone that night,
his friends were standing by,
the hero’s of the comic books,
together they did fly

And now he lives inside the pages
Filled with color Filled with light
There's no more pain for Jerry
and he doesn't miss this life

Edwin Dante Larson
Copyright ©2004 Edwin Dante Larson