He suffered a lot
more than they could see,
and thought that eating could help.
He ate too much,
his weight grew much;
he regretted it.

He’s been hurt a lot
more than they would know,
and thought that sleeping could help.
He couldn’t sleep,
he couldn’t rest;
he missed it.

He’s been damaged a lot
more than they could imagine,
and thought that writing could help.
He grabbed the quill,
he knew he was ill;
he hated it.

He’s been abused a lot
more than they could understand,
and thought that dying would help.
He took his life,
he found the light;
he desired for it.