When he was 5, he learned to write his name in print.
He was taught how to hold a pencil, how to articulate on the page, as he learned to respect the name he bore.
When he came home, he was showered with praise and fed grand meals to celebrate his academic excellence.
He was happy, and it was good.
When he was 8, he loved to play outside.
He learned to play handball; he learned to respect his fellow players.
When he came home, he fell asleep in his mother's arms, and completed his homework, and ate well.
He was happy, and it was good
When he was 12, he started talking to girls.
He was taught to "charm them," yet he often compared his charming to the charming of those around him.
He felt guilty, unloved because he couldn't do anything right.
When he came home, he was buried in work and was forced to fend for himself in his own home.
He was struggling, but it was manageable.
When he was 14, he isolated himself entirely.
He lost respect not just for those around him, but also for himself.
He had overworked himself to the point where all he cared about was his success over his own body.
When he came home, he was showered in guilt and refused to feed himself.
He was struggling, and it was overwhelming
When he was 16, he couldn't look at himself in the mirror.
He hardly fed himself, he hardly showed attention towards himself, he didn't care about himself.
When he came home, all he saw was more work to complete and less time to complete it.
He was withering, and it was salient.
When he was 18, he was admitted to the hospital.
He tried to take his own life.
When he came home from the hospital, he still lacked the self-respect to show an ounce of interest in his own vessel.
He was dying, and it was inescapable.
When he was 21, he was found dead in his apartment.
He drank so much that his body failed to carry on.
When he arrived to the cemetery, he was showered with praise and florals to commemorate his outstanding life.
He was dead
And it was good