Big boys don’t cry, big boys are brave,
I wrestled my pride, I choked at your grave,
You were sentient, a being once known,
Now a cadaver with no mention, the reason for why you hold,
I grappled with complexities of destinies and fate grown cold,
Your lifeless limp organs made no sense to me, hence to forever be reminded by dates of old,
I grew up and starved for the attention of myself again,
When fixated on the larva of lessons books on shelves couldn’t tend,
I sought clarity within, only an ounce of scarcity in sanity,
But it became aware to me an ounce can lead to merrily seek vanity,
I stood close enough to say goodbye while the cat moved in the room with its wandering eyes,
I pulled her and I away should lies about how trapped my mood would be could be seen as laundering sympathy from demise,
I was you’re friend I thought, you knew me so well,
You’re now a poem I send that never reaches the end like a distant longing farewell,
This is the note I wrote when I was 19 years old,
With a 10 year perspective of another teen boy I wish I could have told,
I love you I’m here, you are never alone.