The Fire Starter
This boy was feared among his lads
The boy who was said to be very bad
The boy who was avoided like a contagious disease
The boy who was thought to be very hard to please.
He had soft, flowing hair with an unusual colour
Pale skin and an attitude quite sore
Cold, doe-like eyes that have seen too much agony
Nobody seemed to notice how this boy was so lonely
He didn’t care if they avoided him, he was used to it
He didn’t even care about himself, not one bit
Once he gets mad his eyes’ll burn with fury
One snap of a finger and his palms turn fiery.
The atmosphere will turn warm
That’s when you should feel alarmed
Don’t provoke him though
Let him calm down and slowly let go.
They’d blame this boy for his odd behaviour
They’d spit bad things about him and lose their composure
But this boy could care less, he hated himself more
He cursed his own life deep into the earth’s core.
The real story of this boy was a real tragedy
It all started when he was still a baby
He had a mother who loved him
A mother who was not at all prim
She had the same gift as him
She could start a warm light in a room too dim
Unfortunately she was also treated as a threat
She passed away in a car crash and her baby boy was left
He wasn’t alone though, he had a very caring father
Not only that, but also a kind little sister
Back at his hometown he made himself a friend
A friend who understood him without pretend.
Everything was good until that one fateful night
He had no idea his little sister could also start a light
A sea of fire drowned his whole village
And his sister lost her voice, at such a young age.
He took the blame to save his sister
But it was as if for nothing when a cruel person took her
That’s why he was banished and sent to this school
A school for kids with gifts like his, students made as tools.
His dear friend shared the same fate
He was mad at himself, who else was to hate?
His poor father was left behind, tears poured from his tired eyes
That was the last time the little boy ever cried.
Up till now he was treated like a disease
But other kids looked up to him, and him they wanted to please
YOU ARE READING
Poems I Wrote
PoesíaLittle pieces of my thoughts. Written when I was 13 until present