Where did the beautiful boy go?
Who robbed him of his soul?
And why can’t I have the chance
to make the beautiful boy whole?
He wears a mask of indifference,
penetrated only by hardened grey eyes.
I want to know where his laughter went,
and why he never cries.
He is a mere shell of a boy,
but the hardest of nuts to crack.
I want to teach him to feel again,
and bring his laughter back.
He never questions and never speaks,
shows little emotion at all.
That beautiful boy, so empty now,
as he cowers behind his wall.
I pray to God, and wish on the stars,
that my beautiful boy returns.
For seeing him so cold and disconnected,
is poker that prods and burns.
Within the armour and stony silence,
there lays a heart needing to thaw.
I’ll hold a candle to that heart,
till it is ice no more.