His footsteps
made the world turn sour;
this boy's heart
was once one that had the rhythm of
confidence,
and a smile shining with
compassion;
he now was the epitome of
apathy.
He used to blush if he
wasn't punctual with his arrival,
(he used to hate his pinkening cheeks)
and he used to beat his rhythm
into the floor throughout class
for as long as I could remember.
His tardiness now was just a mere agitation
like the rest of the day,
like the rest of life, it seemed.
He slammed his backpack onto the desk,
collapsed onto the chair
and paid attention to nothing.
I saw that he had no light
he was not running on human curiosity,
but now lived on wrath that pulsed black blood.
My best friend had become a mutilated creature; one that sent some screaming, or some like me who just wanted to cry in anguish on how the tables had spun him so hard that he lost his mind.
YOU ARE READING
Danger, Danger
Poetry"There's nothing more dangerous than a boy who thinks he has nothing left to lose." [ © 2014 - Samantha Grace. All Rights Reserved.]
