He saw the parade of pain,
rough edges worn down
as he moved across town.

The mirror of boy not yet a man,
transitioning between
not understanding anything
and finally learning
that there is a universe full of
thing that he might love,
but will never learn enough
to fully understand.

Neck perpetually bent,
eyes always lowering,
partly from walking
and reading
at the same time,
and being worn down
by the bullies all around,
especially the tyrant at home.

Self-esteem was a strange fantasy,
and anger became
his self-inflicted pain,
but books and tv shows
were a nice way to let go
if just for a short bit.

Racing thoughts that kept him awake,
unless he played a cd to keep those
thoughts quietly tucked away.

Twenty years later with knowledge well earned,
the world still turns, but now it burns.
The boy is a man, so to speak,
and with everything he has read, and listen to,
to help adjust his world view
with the constantly changing times,
he still hasn’t mastered enough to explain
what makes people hurt
and how to ease the world’s ever-expanding pain.