Millions [Poetry]

ribboned morning glories

ribboned morning glories

december25twenty17

the broken boy bled shades of blue, shades of desire and tears left unshed. the pain still looming, the precipice can be oh so dooming, he dreams of being in your arms every single night.

he's quite the character, I'd hope he's everything he can be, everything I could never be. while we may be one and the same, I am exiled to perpetuate my days in darkness.

oh how he does feel like crying. if one more pitying soul tells him to brighten, he'll snap.

broken boy, tears on a battleground, every action he takes banishes him. he weeps, for he does not know what he did wrong. cramming starlight in his socks, he makes it through the day okay until he realizes that his own foolish feet have crushed it.

and he pains, still and still, so many tiny pieces he's almost dust. to live is to suffer. so he screams; but no one is around to hear.

the panic is subsidiary to the black hole he trudges on through, beaten and battered. soon even the dust will be naught, and he'll be but a memory once more.

there shall be light no more.