The Fiddler

A face,
Engraved in stone,
He jumps you hear the killers
Plunging to a hellish death,
You hear the fiddle on and on.

The darkness,
Silent through the night.
No one knows but soon they
A face, A fiddle
Nothing more,
Again the fiddle on and on.

That's not the end,
There's still some more.
So open the book and look
Re-live the fiddler's suicide.

Fire 16; Kit Foster (written at age 13)