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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1317014-Orphan-Boy
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by ray Author IconMail Icon
Rated: · Poetry · Drama · #1317014
A boys hopes and dreams destroyed by family breakup
Orphan Boy

As a child, I had dreams of a wonderful life in a world full of great opportunities
Then gradually, as though I was waking from a long dreamy sleep, I started
To notice the changes in people and things in my life, my perception had
Began to prick its ears, like a curious dog, and I knew the winds of change had arrived.

I used to believe some people in my life were saint like beyond reproach
and I really wanted to don the cloak and be just like them.
Then they began to fray at the edges, and they no longer had that dazzling allure.
I wondered what was happening to my small and once perfect world.

All around me I noticed the shine had gone, and I started to worry for my family
I began hear the arguments I’d always slept through before, in blissful ignorance
And I knew in my heart, like Deja vu , that it was all beginning to crumble down.
I saw that smiles were forced and faces strained, and that pent emotions were raw.

I knew that my loved ones were unhappy,and I began to ask silently if it was because of me.
Was it because I was a bad boy, maybe I could change, and I did try so hard it seemed,
As I curled foetal like, under the stairs, pressing mum and dads coats hard to my face
I silently wept, wishful tears that soaked through the thin fabric.

I prayed to all of the Gods I had ever heard of and sold my soul time and again but
The wrecking ball had began its downward swing, and my heartfelt plea went unanswered.
Things got worse in the time that passed, and I counted the seconds go by
Which resounded like doomsdays’ clock counting down, gathering pace mercilessly.

My view had been skewered by those events and I was caught in an avalanche of
Raw feelings that I found harder to express, except through rage and violence.
What more could I do, this weak sorry shell, shouldering the burden singularly.
I had to let go, and reluctantly I did and let fates cruel broom brush away my hopes

and my dreams. I am still that sorry lad inside this mans body but I reluctantly accepted
this lot and to the onlooker I am a fine specimen. Underneath the surface though
I am still that same boy, distraught under the stairs, wondering why my earnest cry was ignored.
Sometimes there are no answers to your life’s greatest questions. You are better off not knowing

© Copyright 2007 ray (rayman7 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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