untitled.

A boy once lived here,

who had sunshine to spare.

No problem too big,

his shoulder always there.

No quarrel too small,

too short, nor too long.

He’d lend you an ear,

criticize not one wrong.

Optimism inaccurate,

this boy shined too bright.

The glow of his smile

killed the coldest of nights.

The years passed him by,

yet he smiled harder still.

Vanquished despair!

Pain and anguish he killed.

He had talent much,

and arrogance few.

Spinning metaphors and axioms,

his heart simply true.

But he vanished one day,

’nary notes nor a trace!

And missed dearly he was,

that defiant, warm face.

'Twas but a month later;

what horrors they found!

No name could do justice,

no utterance, nor sound.

For that corpse of a boy

his skin taut and fair;

was none other than he,

who had sunshine to spare.

And there scrawled in blood,

on that cold wall of stone:

“The ones hurting most, without fail, bleed alone.”