what a sad slip of a boy
who wears grey jumpers and hats
sitting in the dark of his bedroom
writing stories of the past

a haze clouds his eyes
for the future he cannot see
grief-stricken and dissociated
he does not realise all he could be

the solitude comforts him
as he's pumulled by history, the sundrenched kisses
wearily typing
imaging all of his tragical wishes