A simple touch
A rested hand
A fallen face if he can
Remember her, light his eye
When she comes to his side
Boy was what you were called
Were you a poet inside of your body?
Held in place by skin and bones
A fallen face never home to spoken word
Or his own name
Or wishes to be saved again
I often sit and imagine you as a reincarnated bird
Ready for a second flight
Body follows hungry eyes
Comforted by John and Paul
You had their picture up on your wall
God cut out your tongue
Left you unable to tell anyone
I...
Inside of my head I am free
It would mean nothing
Boy was born
Boy was left
Boy was sick and that was it
Boy was loved
Boy was lost
Boy was never known
Birthday sung too many times
Full of dreams and quick goodbyes
The first in line, the first to go
The only one so unknown
Boy was what you were called
You were a picture up on our wall
God cut our your tongue
Left you unable to tell anyone
I am here
It would mean nothing