There is s boy.
Always reaching.
For what is just out of reach.
The boy knows he will grow.
Even after the disappointment of not being enough.
Does he cling to the wall.
Patient.
Eyes fixed.
The cadaver bellow.
Grows as well.
Some days it feels as if it will grow limbs.
Just to rip him from crossing the finish line.
Each day is a sacrifice.
A communion with death.
For losing a piece of oneself.
Is a small price.
To be able to...
Live.
Love a day longer.
Only too many days have inched by.
Too many scars have been accumulated to be seen any other way.
All the pain.
Is met with disgust.
No one would dare lock eyes with such a grotesque.
Being..
The cries of agony and sorrow.
Are heard only as rage and hate.
Sadly.
Should the next ledge come into reach.
It is unknown.