A little boy, so young, so pure,
Sits under a streetlight, shivering all alone,
Crunched up in a ball, hiding from everyday people
Hugging his tiny little teddy bear so very tight
His eyes, as cloudy as a summer storm,
Empty from his unseen heart
His face, pale with sunlight’s absence,
Blind even the gloomiest night
His lips, pink and arid;
Their skin falls along his face in never-ending flakes
Rain pours in a waterfall from within his soul,
He remains to himself, no pity at all
His teddy bear, his best friend, is old and withered
As is he, little and bitter
“Little boy, why do you cry, why do you cry your morbid tears,” I ask
He glances at me, with his water- covered face, and I begin to cry
As he says “Death is life; my life is death”
And with that, he stands, and slowly strides,
The poor little boy, runs and runs, down the dock
He suddenly stops at waters’ edge and gazes down
Starring at his image portrayed on the surface,
He falls, teddy bear in hand,
Deep into the bottomless blue water,
Away, as far away from life itself he could ever be

 
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