Story of the Lopsided Boy

Born into a world with only one hand to hold Delivered by eyes impassive to his existence cold fingers brought no warmth to his welcome While no strength held him high. The yearning in his eyes hollowed with each year, as that “deep voice” remained quiet Still anxious to gasp that air around him. Inhale the one that was should have breathed in him the breath of manhood. To fill the caverns in his mind. But there was never no ritual of celebration For his rite of passage never took place. While the strangeness of life went unexplained. He walked the hardened streets alone Unprotected Owning each step Godless with no heart beat Curious eyes began to watch Observed his moves Jealous if he had too much Ridiculed if he had nothing at all. Always a contradiction to this world that shared his indifference. Feared if he stepped out of his existence Fearful if he stayed too long there. But deep down his legs wobbled. Never finding a steadiness to himself and some days he just couldn’t stand tall. He withered in the ambiguity. Only to find solace in others with similar traits lopsided and unbalanced. each walking with a limp of their own, Tripping over one another with low hanging pants and untied footwear Sullen eyes laden with mistrust & hopelessness Bodies still chilled with the touch those first cold fingers, who found no joy in their arrival. each traumatized by their own missing “deep voice “. Their faces blended into one another’s, adorning the hooded attire To hide the irate tears Mourning a childhood interrupted The angrier built each time his ball didn’t bounce. The hoops became senseless. The playgrounds had no ground to play. and soon the sounds outside his world muffled. Inconsequential and silence. Turmoil mounded like an incomplete breath. Suffocating and trapping him in his own black cavern, That shone no light at the end. The chaotic around him strangled his thoughts. Dampening any sense of sanity Still void of that “deep voice” to summon him from his darkness. Then the gunshots blared Each victim filled an impartial grudge against their invisible foe. A bullet enflamed. Only then he finally felt his tenderness, a reason to stay but his cries were too late, as it ripped like an acidic blade. Penetrating that heart that just began to beat, only to feel fear. More cold hands lifted his stiffen body, with the ease of insignificance chilled fingers wrapped his remains. His name mispronounced, while dropped to the cold welcoming ground by strangers who hurried the event along to the cascading stream of death. A lone set of eyes filled with the tears of helplessness, Heartbreak shadowed with the betrayal of relief. as the one hand that held him reluctantly let go. His soul finally still rescued by Death never feeling the true warmth of life never hearing that “deep voice” Never knowing to claim any man “father”.