I look at you…
I have no desire other than to understand you,
To see what makes you tick,
So that I can fix you.
I can see…
Your pain extends far deeper than I imagined,
That you are hurting in your smile,
Holding sadness in your laugh.
It is clear…
That you are struggling with this reality,
That you are helpless in your uncertainty,
And nameless in your lack of identity.
What you did…
You inflicted pain to create numbness,
You lied so that you could find security,
You destroyed so that there was nothing left to lose.
Is that numbness didn’t last forever,
And caused you to wretch in a violent loneliness,
While you cried in such inescapable sorrow.
You have found…
That this is who you believed you are,
Abusive, abused, alone, at peace with this false identity,
So much so that you fought against yourself to make it so.
Behind the laughter that defied your mood,
Behind the joy that defied your reality,
Behind the practice that suggested that love was somehow a hollow, shattered promise.
Yet you have…
Shined a light on this blinding cave,
Searched so hard and hurt so many for the answer to it all,
And you are here, and nowhere else regardless of where your mind takes you.
I see it all,
through the cracked glass I gaze upon you,
and judge you as see you as you are.
I see into your eyes,
they look eerily familiar yet complete foreign,
A study into life as the three tenses merge into one.
I can feel you, as sorry as I am for having taken so long to help you,
I wish you could cry on my shoulder,
I wish I could comfort you in your despair,
I wish I could tell you what was coming,
But I fail in even this regard.
My poor boy, I let you go,
I let you succumb to the wolves around you,
I let you fade into nothingness,
I watch as you sobbed hopeless and alone.
The lies you were told became your own to tell,
The insanity inflicted on you became your own to repeat,
The anger beat into you became your only weapon,
The loneliness became your only friend.
You toiled in the art of deviance,
You relished in the art of fantasy,
You mastered the art of fallacy,
You have practiced the art of moving on.
You have survived my boy,
You have seen this darkness first hand,
You have the scars to prove you were there,
And the breath that proves you are still alive.
You love, so you can be loved,
You trust, so that you can live a promise,
You open your arms so that others can embrace you.
You are not that boy yet somehow that boy is you.
You can smile my friend,
For today is now and not then,
And tomorrow is not today but a promise unto itself.
Yes, you can smile.
And you can be free.
©2011 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ