When the teachers wonder but they don't ask,
His sadness is killing him like a thorn,
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask,
Sometimes he wishes he was never born.
Somebody cries in the middle of the night,
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate,
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light,
When morning comes it'll be too late,
A statue stands in a shaded place,
A name written on a polished rock,
An angel boy with an upturned face,
A broken heart that the world forgot.
This poem does not belong to me I found it an tweaked it a little but it's not fully mine.
YOU ARE READING
Harmony
Short StorySorry I'm not very good at writing poems (if that's whatever this thing is)
