The Diary of a Suicidal Child [COMPLETE]

A FACE OF MY OWN

On the first week of fall
Down one night at the world's ball
There was a boy who sat far from the rest
Near the lake he made his nest

While everyone else were being merry
He sat below the lonesome cherry
Looking down at the lake's water
Like clay is looked at by a potter

He saw his face in the natural tank
And to its depths his heart sank
Because in the water he saw his face
But there was nothing to see except the base

Turning around he looked at the others
At his father, mother, sister and brothers
He saw them all with smiling faces
But something was awkward on further gazes

He saw each one's face was just a mask
Which they'd worn to accomplish a mere task
The task of being in sync with the others
Like infants are with their mothers

Then the rain began to fall
The drops creating ripples big and small
Somewhere near the wet leaves and blossoms
He found his own lying in its bosoms

Wearing it he was happy again
Merry like the others dancing in the rain
But deep inside it was well known
That he didn't have a face of his own