⭒Eutony⭒

Sympònia

By Atk_222 (From 'Diary of an Observer')
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The first time they met, those eyes were sincere and full of curiosity.

Now though as she looks at him, there's anger, hurt and a hint of pity.

Behind his cold icy walls, she knew love was still there.

Slowly, she would put down those walls, bring back his joy and kindness.

She wanted to help but he won't let her.

"Life isn't fair sometimes", is all he says.

Accused and shunned all his life for things he never did,

Each day he was embarrassed, each day he got bullied,

Blood smeared on his lips, scars marred half his face,

Still, she managed to look beyond,

And took him within her warm embrace,

That day, he got badly beaten,

But they were unpunished,

Instead of those guilty, the blame went to him,

Suspended again, wrongly blamed,

The rage inside he cannot contain,

That was the last straw, the torture had been enough,

Him being a good-hearted, they call a facade,

They wanted tough, he would now be tough,

For all he went through, he would make them play,

Change doesn't come on its own, rather it has to be made.

The following day, he entered the class with a gun concealed,

His expression lost its kindness,

The rage, the hatred that he had,

Further increased his blindness,

He pulled out the gun, aiming at the first person he could see,

At first, they thought, "A joke, maybe?"

Then they reconsidered seeing his eyes,

Devoid of emotion, devoid of friendliness.

The whole atmosphere turned quiet as they all stood trembling,

He asked, "I got hit each time, got called names.

What did I ever do? What did I ever seek?

Now look, what you forced me to be."

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder,

Turning around, he saw her,

Smiling sadly at him,

Not out of fear, nor forced,

That smile was genuine,

She held his face, asking softly,

"For the actions of a few, would you judge all so harshly?

He stepped back looking away,

Everyone here hurt me.

When all I did was trying to be a friend,

The beatings never had an end,

They cut me, hurt me in every way they could try,

The rest just stood there, ignoring me,

Ignoring the hideous torture, occuring in front of their eyes."

He lowered the gun then looked at her again,

This time her tears were failing,

Before he could say anything, she put her arms around him,

She whispered,
"You noticed all that hate,

Never considering those who cared.

Look into eyes, did I hurt you?

There were people who helped you,

Reached out to you each day,

Did they hurt you too?"

He again looked at the crowd, closely this time,

He remembered a few familiar faces,

Each time he fell, they gave him a hand,

They didn't seem to be afraid,

Rather they seemed to understand.

He now dropped the weapon,

Almost immediately his friends hugged him,

She held him saying into his ears,

"There are people who always care,

No matter how hard and hopeless life may seem."

Now, years have went since,

He thinks about those times,

The way she never made him fake a smile,

Made him feel wanted, made him feel loved,

His trauma had healed, his scars had faded,

He accepted their guilt, forgave everything,

His life he no longer hated.

The same story he still describes even after all this time,

"One act of symphony and passion saved all those lives,

Though I risked her own life that day, she helped to save mine."