Once upon a time in a land not so far away,

Where I fell down along the way.

A place obsessed with my yesterdays,

A place to haunt my only todays.

 

I feel the weight of a thousand words,

Forgetting how it was to hear the birds.

I stare at the paper before me,

A story of ink written to see.

Words aren’t easy for me to say out loud,

To stand in front of you and see me for me.

Although writing is something that makes me proud,

A piece of wrinkled paper I can let you see.

Let you glance across my paper,

Instead of my eyes.

Let you read the words of spoken vapor,

Instead of my guise.

Let me tell you what no one wants to hear,

My feelings, my thoughts, my emotions.

Let me tell you a story of a boy, who can only tear,

About an imperfect boy in a perfect ocean.

How to begin the tale,

As The prequel, or The sequel?

Or the memoir of the frail.

I always was unnaturally different in the eyes of the world,

Maybe that’s what threw me into this whirl.

Where the world threw unending bends.

A boy who always kept it in and never let himself truly unfurl.

I for years had no part in “friends.”

I asked what time it started and what time it ended.

It sounded like some formal dance at first,

Pushing a needle into my bubble to burst.

No one could hear the scream I made,

Oh wait, that’s because it was in my head.

Seeing these people made me afraid,

Stapling together like paper while I hid under the bed.

Give me a pill to quiet down the voice inside,

And the ones that knock on the outside.

No matter how far the road may be wide,

It felt enclosed, closing in on every side.

The words I held dug me farther and farther,

Holding on becoming harder and harder.

Mix up my name and forget my face,

Call me jerk, freak, fat…whichever name,

It’s all to me the same,

In this cold and bitter place.

No one to hold my hand in the dark,

No one to show me where are the stars.

A boy and his tale to tell,

A father and a boy at the well.

Father throws rocks while the boy throws tears,

Not listening to the boy who is owned by his fears.

With each tear he wishes softly to magic’s ear,

To hold on another night, not for a dream career.

Wishing to one day see a star in the sky,

One he’s dreamed so much of  looking oh so high.

As time passed down the roads,

The boy meeting many forks of crossroads,

Remember the time when we had laughter,

Remember when we cried right after.

I held myself in my arms with only one wish,

A wish that I’d remember to forget.

Lay down with Amnesia to stay and be with,

Lock and key for the regret.

At the fork I slept,

And there I wept.

For it was all I had left,

But to fall to rest.

What is my name,

I used to know.

But it never came,

Nothing to show.

I lied to the sky,

I yelled at the earth.

All I wished now was not to cry,

But to go wither and die.

I lost whatever will once was mine,

A fate that by people was designed.

Ones who were oh so close,

And others whose hearts were froze.

I dream a happier reality,

One where I can be me.

Not a mirror of humanity,

One where I can be free.

But the truth is that that’s a hopeless dream,

A mistaken stitch in the seam.

Put on your black suit and black tie,

And lead me into the dark tonight.

A tale of a boy, who fell down the well,

Trying to make wishes with his tears.

A boy who had a story to tell,

But no one there with ears to hear.

A boy who was stung by the bee,

And bit by the bitter sea.

A boy I often called by the name of me,

A boy who hid alone behind the tree.

And so ends the tale that began long ago,

A story to not remember and to never know.

The words of a soul as broken as the sand,

A boy who just wanted to only understand.

Why, why he was so rejected,

Such a monster in the mirror reflected.

Playing connect the dots with a boy’s head,

Oh so fragile from what the world said.

A boy who wanted to just sleep,

And never ever see the morning again.

Sliding down a mountain side oh so steep,

Crying into the arms of a stone angel so feign.

Tell the mantle of heaven to sleep tight,

And dream of a boy who saw the sight.

A boy who forgot about the night,

And remembered the light.

Many tears upon blocked off fears,

Held in my prison with no one to listen.

A boy who was isolated amongst his demons,

A boy who had the dark for a beacon.

A boy who was alone to cry,

Alone to go and die.

A boy who sought to laugh and smile,

And have a life that was all worthwhile.

I sit under the oak tree with a tear in my eye,

Reflecting the future in the wide sky.

And with relief I sigh,

As the world waits another day to destroy,

And there ends my story…The Story of a Boy.

The End.