4OE

A little boy cries himself to sleep.

He doesn’t understand why the man

His mother loves tramples his soul, body and spirit

Into the ground they share as men.

 

A little boy hides like a thief

When his house is so angry that it trembles

Like a dying leaf in a storm so thunderous

It defies his belief.

 

A little boy lies through his teeth

When accused of stealing his own heart

Back from the woman who broke it

Into more pieces than he can count.

 

A little boy stirs in his sleep,

His dreams full of thoughts that ought

To cause a morning of dread,

- pre-humously mourning the dead.

 

A little boy dies in his sleep

- dying a death that would make the bluest

River cry. His mother, sleeping peacefully,

Will never know nor understand why.