i once met a boy
who had eyes as dark as a storm
a face as beautiful as mona lisa’s smile
and a personality as reckless as a hurricane
and he spent his days
hiding his sadness in music
and slashing his pretty little wrist
wincing as the blood ran down his arm
and sighing when the feeling of ‘alive’ hit him
deeper than the wound he had inflicted
only for the joy in his eyes and the freedom in his veins
to fade back into hollowness
almost straight away