Kevin was a perfect child, with bright, curly, ginger hair.
He never, ever, ever ran wild, he just played with his Teddy Bear.
He never put a foot wrong, never said a naughty word.
A shy, quiet, pleasant boy, always seen but never heard.

He had a labrador when he was five, a goldfish and a budgerigar.
On day trips to the seaside, he’d never, ever, stray very far.
He was always in bed at nine, tucked tightly between the sheets.
Handed his homework in on time, always made sure he brushed his teeth.

But suddenly things changed, Kevin did things he shouldn’t have done.
He began to look very strange, went out and bought himself a gun.
And on a cold and wintry night, he shot his Mum and Dad between the eyes.
He sat in their pool of blood and for hour upon hour he sat and cried.

Then Kevin walked for miles and miles, as tears fell down his cheeks.
He sat alone on a wooded hill while his body felt terribly weak.
He put the gun up to his head and shattered his childhood dreams.
He proved to everyone once and for all, that Kevin wasn’t all he seemed.

The last thing he wanted to be was a boy called Kevin.
A boy with ginger hair who ought to go to heaven.
A sweet little innocent child, never put a foot wrong.
The last thing, he ever, ever, ever wanted to be.

© Edward ian Armchair 2002