LD ( / )

The Lostboy

She’s looking for you, you know?
But you don’t seem of interest
She’s waiting for you, in the cold
But you’re just lost in the rest

The humble brat he is
Sitting on his front porch
Is he waiting for a bus?
Or lighting his happy torch?

A sickly calm shrouds him
Though he is unaware
The pale black aura
Of his inner dim

He mopes and pouts and mourns
From how he destroyed the life
Of the girl lost long ago
His lack of will
It darkens his reserve
That is why he’s become so ill

I thought I knew him once
And he thought he knew me
But a glimpse to my perspective
He could not see

Am I any better?
Does my star shine brighter?
Is it harder to understand?
The blood on my wrists
Which still stain your hands?

And so I ask ‘what else? ’
Could possible make me remember
Of the boy who knew so much of me
And not enough of himself

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