I didn't know him, the boy who died today.
I didn't know the blonde of his hair,
the smell of his cologne,
or the way he spoke.

I don't know why he removed himself from this world,
and I don't know why he took a piece of me with him.
I think of his family, the friends who cry out on social media and how they've begun to grieve.

Then I think of the scene.
The blood in his hair,
the smell of ruddy iron,
and the silence of the room.

There was something he felt he had no other escape from,
some cage that forced his hand to trigger a release.
So close to Christmas,
so close to a new year,
so close to a new start.

They say that as life goes on things get better,
through every struggle, they say to wait.
Wait until life changes,
wait until you reach a new stretch.

But life doesn't get better as we go,
not if we just recoil and wait.
Life does not bring us a reason to live,
we must find it.

Experience creates happiness.

Throughout our existence we journey to find substance to keep us alive:
People who brighten us, ones we have not yet encountered.
Lifestyles we may not yet know to exist.
Love like no other that leaves us sure that this is it.

We cannot give up on life so quickly.
It requires endurance and endeavor to collect these treasures.
We are oblivious to what is yet to come,
maybe one is right around the corner.