The boy was alone
alone while surrounded
by the phantoms of what was,
a torturous lonesomeness
which hardened him
what was once warm and vibrant
was slowly cooling
like the Earth
after the cosmic soup of the big bang
He wasn't quite ready for it
to be tossed into the pit
of living and breathing
he never asked for it
but he knew he had to be tough
stiff lipped
deadly,
so he quelled the complaints
tucked them down in his heart
which had adopted the pace
of war machines
his view had shifted
a world once of wonder
was now infuriating
he wanted to end it
one great final bang
to end all bangs
so that he might be left
to whimper
to be warm again
to miss everything
he had just sent
flaming into oblivion
he was on the reaper's path
a dead man walking
Redemption came forth
and hit him
like a moment of adolescent embarrassment
it wasn't the girl herself
rather,
what she stood for
in his eyes
she was afflicted by the same world as he
and yet she found ways to dance
and sing
and love
he admired that most,
little by little
she coaxed him forward
back from beyond the brink
of primordial passions
back from beyond the tipping point
between helping and hurting,
slowly his anger changed
from something bitter and lifeless
into a fiery explosion
splitting the night sky
a second sun
she showed him how to shape it,
direct it,
sharpen it,
she showed him
how his aim may stay true,
and she made him deadlier
because she gave him a purpose
and a target,
somewhere to go.
And before long
he could remember
what it was like
to still have innocence
his rage simmered down
and became healthy passion
healing and assuring
no longer a sword
but a shield
and he had the notion
that maybe one day
this creature from on high
could even allow him
not to just give love
but to accept it
which was the greatest
gift of all
The best I can do to sum up the impotent rage of youth which we like to call angst, and how to utilize it in a productive fashion