Once upon a time,
There was a skinny boy.
And that is the deadline;
how the verb "to be" is in past tense.
How the skinny boy, isn't anymore.
How he left everything behind him:
Me,
His poetry,
A sense of unknown guilt,
A song that's forever ruined,
My empty hands,
My nightmares,
And this poem.
But he fought.
He fought hard,
He fought as hard as he could,
Against whatever was coming for him,
Against his anxiety and depression,
Against how the outside world saw him,
Against the monster living under his bed,
In his closet,
In his head,
In his heart.
I tried making him feel safe,
I tried wiping off his tears over phone calls from the other side of the world,
I tried making him stay.
But the poor angel wanted to fly,
The poor thing thought that his wings were strong enough to carry his heavy burden,
The poor boy thought he wouldn't be missed.
It's been 2 years now.
And the skinny boy still haunts me,
And I've never told anyone in my life,
Because they would say that he is mad,
God, was he mad.
God, was I.
Once upon a time there was this skinny boy,
And he flew away.
And the story is over.
And the deadline makes me cry, even after all this time.
YOU ARE READING
My loved ones; a journey.
Puisi“Perhaps one did not want to be loved, as much as to be understood” George Orwell.
