Camera Boy

So I was going through some of my old things, and found this poem that I had written awhile a go. It's a little dark, and I would change a few things if I was going to redo it, but I still like it. So here it is.



Camera boy dreamed of playing in the sun
Running and Skipping and Laughing, loaded with fun
His mother denied him of all the school boy jollies
By saying “my boy, my boy you are much too frail”
His father didn’t seem to be of any help at all
He only heard from him with the occasional telephone call.

Lots of chemicals and solutions filled his darkroom lab
No dreamed up concoction would change his head from this metal drab
Smells of Peroxide brought up suspicions
But Camera Boy would not budge with weakly submission

This Morning he would sneak past his still sleeping mother
Past his freakishly oyster headed brother
Past all the furniture in the living room laid
Past the sleeping quarters of the Peruvian maid
Past the little dog that came back to life
He would do this with ease and no given strife

He opened the door to see the morning light
Although this time there would be no screaming with delight
He failed to see the little concrete crack
It would cause a problem for him walking with tact.
As he tripped, like pottery falling from the kiln
His head had now become just a lump of over exposed film.