A desperate cry for help,
He sits alone in his room,
Suffering from his own thoughts,
Too fragile afraid to reach out,
A lifelong horror story,
Surrounding his life,
Darkness hidden away,
Forever locked up by fear,
He’s afraid of help,
He’s afraid to be turned on,
Resorting to self inflicted pain,
Drugs abused bottles emptied,
He tries to fix himself,
Is he truly the one to blame?
Does it really matter,
He can’t control himself any longer,
The pain has become too much to bare,
He’s hidden the pain for far too long,
Horrified by his own self doubt,
Caused by the trauma he’s been dealt,
It’s too late for him,
As he frantically writes a final goodbye,
The dust begins to collect,
His name plastered throughout the street,
He blames no soul,
For the pain caused by the wicked,
Instead bottled it up,
Then emptied his bottle inside,
Then took his step,
The final leap of faith,
Into self hate and doubt,
As his soul wonders without a body,
Lost in time,
The boy slowly weeps,
Watching those he called friend move on,
The flowers by his grave decay,
One by one they stop coming,
Only a single rose remains,
For one remained that still had hope,
That he may never be forgotten,
For what he did while he suffered,
He pushed the pain away to help another,
So till her very last breath,
A single rose still stood tall,
A lover lost but never forgotten,
No matter what the boy never let go,
So when he gave in to his demons,
The girl never fled.
About the Creator
Fin Shepard
I enjoy writing and thought I'd share it.
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