They called him Joe
He always sat alone
But when a friend was needed
Joe’s compassion came unheeded
Joe always walked quite quickly
Moving from place to place
But one day Joe looked quite sickly
Losing all his grace
Now the school steps in
The call rises high
They notify every parent
While Joe starts to die
He’s only eight years old
The news screams aloud
Why won’t you help poor Joe
The movement starts now
But what they all fail to see
Is poor Joe’s malady
His sickness can’t abate
For it simply stems from hate
Now poor Joe is dead and gone
But the news still hasn’t won
They need to spread his legend
While not knowing about his heaven
For Joe helped those in need
When the one in most need was he
For his father couldn’t stop
From giving him a pop
But sensationalism doesn’t care
About how Joe parted his hair
Or the way he could see
When someone was in need
It’s about what you post on your feed
Thumbs up is down to me
For people like poor Joe
Who just wanted to grow
Categories: Poetry Uncategorized
abnormalvaverage
I'm a high school English teacher in Texas. I also hold degrees in radiography and radio and television broadcasting. Though I obtained certain knowledge and skills from my prior degrees, I do not currently use them.
Abnormal Thoughts from the Average Mind 
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