They say a boy looks up to his father,
But his father keeps drifting farther,
Taking sceaden paths leaving their sons living hidden lives in bed ridden hives,
In a hurry to marry more wives while forgetting their sons' lives,
The boy now takes a detour from his roots as he seeks another route to tour;
Smoking dope with no hope is the new crop and hanging on a rope is the only way of ending hope,
They say a man should not cry,
But the boy has no place to seek solace as he'll be seen to be so less if he tears on his face despite the fears that he faces,
His inactive mind held captive by the retrogressive thoughts;
shattering his prospective dreams of a productive life,
But still,like glue on paper
the father has no clue what the son is going through,
The truth then,
Far found from our hearts must be told,
Give an ear to the stressed boy with pressed issues,
Lest the rest of their lives shall vest in a nest of dystopia.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
