Not Good News


That phone call you never thought you'd have to make;

Where is he…?

You only turned away for a second.

You just had to close your eyes.


He’s gone.

Your little baby boy…

You have to get him back.

You can do it call those three little numbers.

They will find him.

They have to.



As you sit at home,

Day after day; night after night.


The phone rings.

They found him.


It’s not good news.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741