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decompoetry
Poems
Apr 2011
A Boy
There was a black child
stumbling along the deserted road,
heading in my direction,
although I doubt he even knew.
It was the first person Iβd seen
in well over a week, at least;
even if he was not the soul
I forever seek, I gladly accepted
his withered embrace.
He looked into my eyes,
and I looked into his.
There was something lost in them.
βHelp me,β the boy croaked,
and passed out in my arms.
I cradled him like he was my own,
and in my mind, he was.
I built a fire and laid him on a blanket
that I previously found
in a destroyed supermarket,
inspecting the affecting effects
of total annihilation.
He was more bones than skin;
most of his teeth missing
from tar bled gums,
and his stomach was bruised
from God knows what.
I wondered where his parents were,
and if he even knew himself.
Suddenly my mind
was filled with a flash of flesh
grilling against more flesh,
where anxious fingers dug in.
Tears met as unwanted
satisfaction struck
with remorse,
and thoughts
of a better time.
These visions are something
I will never get used to.
In the morning the boy was dead.
I never even knew his name,
but it didnβt stop me
from telling him mine,
all the same.
--'In the Wasteland'
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decompoetry
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