I Write Poetry

It was once upon a never after,

a tale unfit for a storybook page,

when during what seemed like an endless night,

the boy would pace in his cage,


through the shadows he crept,

over briers and brambles,

he searched to fix his soul,

to heal its pieces in shambles,


he was a thing with no life,

thus unable to die,

cursed to always fail,

yet doomed to always try,


he would dream of the what was beyond,

the place just past the bars,

until this night he met,

a beautifully stunning star,


she spoke of this life outside,

of adventures he'd yet to see,

of magic in the mundane,

of a place he longed to be,


yet this star had trouble shining,

unbelieving in her own spark,

the boy refuted this claim,

and vowed to fight off her dark,


they would laugh and talk for hours,

with each other countless moments they would spend,

in this the boy found happiness,

with his first and only friend,


the boy who loved the star,

and he thought she loved him back,

but in the truth he found pain,

and his heart began to crack,


and all at once it changed,

the star had left without warning,

and so now the boy cries alone,

tis why we call each new day mourning.