THE LOST BOY

I don't recall when I saw him last
But I still remember, that I was young then.
Quite a charming boy he was.
Bad yet Good, Noisy yet Silent and Coward yet Brave.

However, I don't see him any more.
Questions about him, strike me often,
Questions perhaps I have answer to yet, there is that denial.

Is he DEAD?
A question that my mind has no answer to;
And my heart is not meant to.
For it still has some hope,
That it shall meet him again.
But, my mind is on the contrary.

For some time; it was at peace.
Glad! that HE had gone.
But, as the metronome on my book shelf ticked on,
I felt a swelling upsurge;
Kind of suffocation I think-
A suffocation that chokes you,
Not until death;
But, one that devours you from within.
But contrary to all these dilemma, rationality provoked me to move on-
To move ahead from the clutches of past.
For one sure thing of life- it moves on.
So I moved on, moved forward, ahead of what was left behind.
For all attempts to recall him was in vain, for he is lost
For the boy is me- and it's I who am lost.

                                                                                      -Lucario Strange