All I remember from those days,
Are the clouds that began to grey,
All alone in a hopeless world,
Was a boy that began to curl
up into a ball of self-hatred.
-
A little boy filled with joy
quickly became fresh bait for hate.
As they pushed him into a bush,
silence fell around him.
-
Silence turns into violence,
He pled in his head for someone to hear
The crying boy was left lying with no one near.
-
That night he tried with all his might to will the fright away,
but it came to stay.
He had to bend for his new friend,
the dread dragging him to bed
to weep while he was falling asleep.
The flame inside was not the same,
it was almost like he was on a chain
out in the rain
all alone,
until he was grown.
-
The next few years caused several tears,
to fall from the boy's cheek,
it made him feel weak.
"One day at a time"
felt like a climb
to the top of a mountain
just to come down like a fountain.
Down he went, back into town,
feeling like he had drowned.
It was fairly groggy, but he found himself another hobby.
Away at bay, is where he would stay,
until the moon
loomed above him.
He took his art like a dart straight into the heart,
not letting anyone's job
rob him of his sense to be
to be innocent.
No one would see it,
No one would know,
Exactly how he began to grow.
He would lie,
he would hide,
just so he could get by.
Every day began to feel
like he was doing cartwheels
into a jail that was actually hell.
Some days were long,
others felt wrong,
and some he felt like singing a song.
He felt like a blue jay,
fluttering away,
when he finally strayed.
There was a con,
because from that point on,
he became withdrawn.
Isolation leads to frustration,
all alone with his headphones.
A boy whirled into a world full of grief
and belief that one day
he will finally get relief
From his melancholy
but he 'ought to be
happy.
He feels like a puppet on a string,
but he doesn't have wings, so he has to cling
onto the string of life.
The string that could easily snap like a venues fly-trap swallowing him whole,
and down he goes, back into the hole of bleakness.
YOU ARE READING
Colour Shines in Through The Dark
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry that I wrote to describe how things have been throughout my lifetime. From childhood, to being queer, and even to how things are currently. Some poetry for those who need it: Things will get better even if they seem...
