Found poem from William Golding's Lord of the flies (pages 167-170)
In agony a thing was stumbling
Screams but no words
The thing terrified was crying
Its face beaten by words
Superficial hunter rose in desire
A scar constantly over its face and arms
The stars and sky can't kill its fire
No noise but the blood on its arms
The blue-white scar became darkly
Like the tore branches from a tree
A pale face with uncertainly
A trouble boy sounding free
The chant swayed down till it was governable
They were dead men on a hill
Excitement became regulable
Superficial boys stood still
The partly secure society boys ran
Blows from thunder followed
Moving aimlessly at the threat in the sand
The terror stroke them of what they had done
The video with visual and audio
