Big cities
and starry nights.
The hanging lights
have never shined so bright.
So dazzling
and showy.
Bribing attraction
and new found glory.
And everyone was too mesmerized
by the pretty shining lights
on the building.
To notice.
Until a boy fell down from the roof.
At their feet.
And they stopped admiring
and started to scream.
The little boy
who lived down the street.
The one who was always smiling
down at his feet.
Always polite,
always kind.
Never harsh,
and never paying mind.
The little boy,
who had perfected his act.
Until he fell.
And broke his mask.
His ashen face was streaked with tears.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
