Thirteen
As I look into his hazel eyes,
Unfolds a story about his past life.
He was thirteen,
Leaving his life behind,
In exchange for a brighter future,
Putting on the mask of the american dream
But he was young,
He was lost,
He was left alone at a stranger’s house,
Oh how hungry he was
Still the food wasn’t his,
So he didn’t eat for three days.
He was laughed at,
Stepped on,
Ripped to shreds,
Uncovering all that was beneath the mask of the american dream.
So he dragged himself to a needle,
Tears streaming down his remains
Trying to sew what was left of him, but it was never the same.
Suffocated with work,
His body was drenched in pain.
Ripping open his patchwork of remains,
He would never be the same.
He would close his eyes,
Hoping to be embraced by his mothers arms,
He only wished to be home again,
He was only thirteen.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
