Day after day, we go through the motions Like waves searching for shore in the middle of the ocean, Following along as we get swept by the current Again and again, waiting for the day itβll end.
I was lost in this sea of people when I saw him. A mere glimpse from my periphery, I almost missed His tear-streaked face and his bleeding knee, And I thought to myself, how did I not see?
My eyes caught the way his shoulders sagged From carrying the weight of the world on his back. Heβs only a child but his fate seemed worse than Atlas, His young body shackled by greedy insatiable hands.
I wonder if someone witnessed his despair, Picked up a brush and decided to share The story of a boy whose future was stolen By heroes who were nothing but villains.
His pleas echo in every brushstroke And while my hands can never replicate The vivid imagery offered by paint He can live on in the words I create.