glacian

This is an old tribute poem story I wrote in commemoration of Tim Burtons The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy. Let me know what you think. Was it good was it bad? Once I get to a scanner I will scan in the picture of the character as well. So here it is:

The Boy Who Lost his Hands

There once was a boy who loved to play.
Indoors or outdoors,
Hed play all the day.

Hed play in the park,
With lots of his friends.
Hed play with them,
Until it was dark.

Inside he would play,
With blocks and small toys.
Content and away,
From the girls and boys.

Yet one night the boy
Gave his hands a rest.
But they were not done,
And began to protest.

With a wiggle and squirm
His hands wandered away;
Unthinking and free,
Ready to play.

When the boy awoke,
They were not there.
All he did was look,
At his wrists with a glare.

No more could he play,
With his blocks and toys.
So he left his room,
Looking for the girls and boys.

None would play,
They all laughed at the sap.
One little girl said,
Id like to see him clap!

So the boy walked away,
Sad and empty hearted.
Taken for granted,
His hands departed.

There you go a moderate tribute to the style and mood of a classic Tim Burton work. Thank you.