Walking home, I saw him
Bright red hair and a drawn face
Fumble with his package
and fall
But I walk past
because I do not know him

The next day
I see his picture
as the headline of the paper
saying

Teenage Boy found
after having committed suicide

I read farther and learn
he had not parents,
only an abusive foster family

his package contained
pills from the doctor.
They were supposed to go to his sick brother
but he, himself, was sicker.

I remember that day
that look of fear
mixed with hope

hope that after he was done
he would no longer live in fear
no longer be scared

I remember.

But I also remember my feeling
my feeling of disgust
when he looked around after he dropped the package
as if scared
someone might have seen him
and punished him for his wrong-doings

But at that time,
I didn’t think he mattered
just another boy on the sidewalk

I did not stop to help
I did not think he mattered

But I learned
after being so close to another human
yet so far away

That every life matters,
no matter who they are,
or what they look like,

No one should have to die
in order to escape their life
in order to feel welcomed.

I only am sad
that it took a life to show me
that I didn’t know right away

That he payed the price
for my innocence.