In a land as dark as the depths
Of treacherous underground tunnels,
Dangling from a swaying thread,
Where even the demons of hell
Dare not tread,
Lived a boy lying, just lying in his bed
A mind crammed
With the tortures of daily life,
Brimming with strife,
Pondering over one question:
“Why me?”
The world swayed
His confidence wavered
His morale trampled upon,
The little devil crept up to knock
On the broken shoulder of the boy
And called him a toy,
For the world to play with
Then discard, abandon, and neglect
Like a child’s old, ragged teddy bear
Rejected, filled with despair,
He grows blind and dreary
Seeing his reflection in the mirror:
Eyes red, eyelids drooping
Teary, and weary,
He sees the hair sprouting
From his cheeks and chin
And the alertness of the morning vanishes
As the reality truck hits him with hate
And he whispers to the mirror:
“Why me?”
The young boy who once
Frolicked in the playground
Yelping in joy
As he rolled down a slide,
Walking around with a bouncy gait,
Gathering pinecones, taking in
The essence and the beauty of nature,
Is now gone.
Trampled and stomped upon
By the cruel world
That does not stop
For a fellow fallen friend
The world brushes past the fallen boy
Not a care in the world
The cheeky smile of delight on his face
Vanishes without leaving a sparkly trace
With no one to embrace,
The child waits
For someone to look into his eyes,
Peer deep into his soul,
And witness something full of pain
As dark as coal.
The child grows
But in a sense missing one thing
To which his soul does cling,
The soul which people so easily fling
And the boy
Does not forget the sting
That this pain would bring
The boy is hopeless
After falling down a thousand times
And gathering every ounce of strength
That he can muster
To pick himself up
And avoid the agonizing fluster
He imagined a paradise
Where people cared,
Where people shared
their joy and sorrow,
And did not have to worry
about their tomorrow,
Where life was fair.
But sadly, his fate was already sealed
And the lock on the door to that kingdom
Was eternally sealed.
The wounds from the abuse
Had not healed
But before his despair
He kneeled.
Too weak to rise for the thousandth time
He lay on the dusty floor
Neither accepting nor rejecting his fate
Just sobbing
And whimpering
Until a woman’s voice pierced his bruised ears
The truck of reality hit him once more
And he descended back into the abyss,
The nightmare no human should ever
be unlucky enough to experience,
And assumed the same fake smile
That he had been hiding behind
For years.
Relatable