Essay About Little Boys And Fresh Hunt

Lord of the Flies Poem
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Death
On a carefree island made of pink stone,
little boys run free,
Free of the rules set by grownups.
Its all fun and games, until that faithful moment where that the conch was blown.
Following this call, like a sick puppy, was a word that no one shall soon forget:
Fire!
There was run and yelling and kid-like acts up to the spot where the all mighty fire would dance for them.
Nothing went as planned
The fire was too wild for the boys to handle.
This is where the first was lost,
The first was lost to recklessness.
That is where the ever never visible crack began.
The boys danced with the fire today,
One with its wild movements.
The fresh hunt was cooking and crying, the beauty of the fire made it cry out in pain.
Fear was still flowing, this river would never dry up.
But there is one, who wishes to evaporate the fear and create peace once more.
When the he came
The rain was falling, the boys frantic and fearful saw him as a monster,
The beast that has been feared from the start
They did what little boys only knew how to fight off monsters when faced with them: kill them.
And this, the goodness, was lost to savagery.
Never to be seen, left to always thought as the monster or the forever lost outcast.
This is where the crack grew. Only few could see what was coming.
Coming
Cracks, the weakening of civilization.
Recklessness begins the process,
The loss of the goodness continues it.
Fighting the evil to get back whats rightful your,
Never walk in with an unleveled head,
Do not run in blind.