As a child, he was loved by all.
He would always get compliments for his good deeds.
He would always feel warm like fresh pancakes in the morning,
Warm like furry blankets you wear on a cold night.
He was perfect, got good grades, president of his school,
he was the answer to everyone's questions.
That was him, loved
But it got worse.
Bullies became involved in his everyday life.
They opened him up like a wound and poured hatred and violence on him.
He transferred schools but somehow the bullies were everywhere.
He asked why.
Why this life
The cuts made him feel better
The cuts relieved his pain and sorrow brought upon him.
The cuts distracted him from everything going on in this cruel world.
No one knew about his pain.
No one asked if he was okay, they just assumed he was.
They just assumed that his suffering was never happening.
He was wearing a mask of happiness to hide his depression from everyone.
Depression became his best friend.
That was him, alone
He kept thinking it would get better.
It always would.
It never did, it got worse.
He slowly drifted away from his friends,
Not because they were mean, he left them because he was scared,
Scared that they will hurt him
Scared that the only people who cared would turn on him.
They questioned why he left,
Why he stopped going to school
But they never did anything,
That was him, close to the end.
At home, he would just sit in bed and cry.
Crying, asking God to forgive him.
To him, heaven was closer than he thought.
The noose became a belt tied around his fragile neck.
He kicked the chair down from under him and just swayed
Swayed back and forth like a grandfather clock.
That was him, gone.