As a child, he was free—
free to speak, to laugh, to do as he pleased.
As a child, he had a way
of hiding, of losing himself in a dream.
Pain, sorrow, and hurt
were nowhere along his path.
Tears still came, and often—
but not from helplessness, as they do now.
Anger was never a friend of his;
now he cannot live without it.
He was once immune to jealousy;
now he is a patient of it.
Logical or illogical,
he never used to care—
now, time and again, he must ask:
am I even right enough to cope?
Isn’t he lost in this vast world,
where only the hunger for money is left to feel?
He owns everything he has—
but for that, he sold his soul.
His eyes speak every word
he cannot say: he longs to fly free.
No one sees how alone he is,
fallen so low, as if he were the only one.
But fiercely he vows
he will not break, will not cry anymore;
he will face it all alone.
And drawing a single breath, he left—
with one ray of light
to find the world he had lost,
and build a world of his own,
living inside a dream
to find the world he left behind.
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