Boy

Some days you just don't see coming.

Born from quiet desperation,
He attached his devotion
To any person willing to look his way.
Loss of blood, lack of heart
Let someone hold it, they stole it, tore it apart.

Remember the boy at the end of the street.
Bright eyed and light hearted,
Speaking with words honest and earnest,
All to his fault.
Best intentions fell aground on malicious inventions
Born from self-preservation of innocence.

He embodied an apology,
The way some men are forever stuck downtown,
Always wishing the grass was greener at home.
So the boy split himself up and let parts of him go,
Home with those he thought who needed him most.
A boy apart, on shelves and beds, just some abstract art.

Now he's taking himself back,
A tendon, a muscle, a bone, a sinew at a time;
Everything coming together in its right place.
He was terrified at how whole he could be.
Starting again the process of being,
By learning to walk and learning breathe,

The boy came alive and the boy became fine,
Recovered himself and restarted his journey.
A little bit hurt, a little bit new,
The boy was himself and that was enough.