There was once a boy
Full of energy
And child-like tenderness
The likes of which
Could fill a room
With the softest of light
He thought this ability,
Of bringing smiles
To the grimmest of faces,
A gift
One of his own making
He grew through this
Giving these instances of joy
Blind to the eternity of melancholy behind them
Moving in a warm field
Paying attention only to the most luscious of fruits
While ignoring the weeds which flourished under
Such a privilege he held
Partaking in his life of ignorance
Enraptured by the small moments
He took to hold eternities
He wandered in this garden
Taken only to those colors most vivid
While ignoring their insignificance
But there comes a time
When even the greatest of these colors pale
Perhaps it was a greater shock to him
To see past the earlier smiles
And finally perceive
The pain that lay behind
Masked by the limpest of wrappings
In order to prevent those outside
To share in its burden
He saw this
The greatest of depths
Fueled by his singular experience, perhaps cruel
Most never see these depths
Wrapped in similar worlds,
Built on privilege and painkillers
Never ripping off the bandage
To experience the true pain behind
He fell far
Into this abyss of loathing
Knowing not how others could live with it
Eventually deciding
He couldn’t
It’s in these instances
On the barrier between free fall
And the climb’s first grip
Which can either define an age
Or extinguish its potential
There was once a boy
Aimless and despondent
Holding the burden of experience
Of the force barely held back by the bravest of smiles
The likes of which
Could empty the most vivid of souls
With a blue acuteness
But in the moment he could have succumbed to its impossibility
He instead witnessed something similar, yet entirely unique:
A smile
Yet this one smiling, somehow, past the pain
Holding both the curve of brittle lips
And twinkle of eyes, ones which had seen it all
There was once a boy
Who grew thinking he knew joy
Able to give it at his whim
And when he found the truth behind this sentiment
In the moment he may have succumbed to its inevitability
He found where true joy was held
Not in the smile of those pretending against the truth
But in those who did so in the presence of it
And the boy was no more
As he fell
To the Man who rose in his stead
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
There was once a boy
Full of energy
And child-like tenderness
The likes of which
Could fill a room
With the softest of light
He thought this ability,
Of bringing smiles
To the grimmest of faces,
A gift
One of his own making
He grew through this
Giving these instances of joy
Blind to the eternity of melancholy behind them
Moving in a warm field
Paying attention only to the most luscious of fruits
While ignoring the weeds which flourished under
Such a privilege he held
Partaking in his life of ignorance
Enraptured by the small moments
He took to hold eternities
He wandered in this garden
Taken only to those colors most vivid
While ignoring their insignificance
But there comes a time
When even the greatest of these colors pale
Perhaps it was a greater shock to him
To see past the earlier smiles
And finally perceive
The pain that lay behind
Masked by the limpest of wrappings
In order to prevent those outside
To share in its burden
He saw this
The greatest of depths
Fueled by his singular experience, perhaps cruel
Most never see these depths
Wrapped in similar worlds,
Built on privilege and painkillers
Never ripping off the bandage
To experience the true pain behind
He fell far
Into this abyss of loathing
Knowing not how others could live with it
Eventually deciding
He couldn’t
It’s in these instances
On the barrier between free fall
And the climb’s first grip
Which can either define an age
Or extinguish its potential
There was once a boy
Aimless and despondent
Holding the burden of experience
Of the force barely held back by the bravest of smiles
The likes of which
Could empty the most vivid of souls
With a blue acuteness
But in the moment he could have succumbed to its impossibility
He instead witnessed something similar, yet entirely unique:
A smile
Yet this one smiling, somehow, past the pain
Holding both the curve of brittle lips
And twinkle of eyes, ones which had seen it all
There was once a boy
Who grew thinking he knew joy
Able to give it at his whim
And when he found the truth behind this sentiment
In the moment he may have succumbed to its inevitability
He found where true joy was held
Not in the smile of those pretending against the truth
But in those who did so in the presence of it
And the boy was no more
As he fell
To the Man who rose in his stead
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