Dark Night.

As I see his elbows are bare, I feel the warm breeze from the vents of my running car. The mountains that appear on his arms are from the cold brisk air. I feel a sense of sadness come over me, it’s uncontrollable. It’s a dark dreary night and the road he walks upon has been worn down over time. The pep in his step and his high end sneakers prove to me that he can’t be much older then fourteen. I wonder to myself why he’s walking alone at such a time of night. Does he not have fear in his heart for what could be right around the corner? At once it all makes sense. My safety blanket awaits me as the sun goes down. I find comfort in the hearts of those that surround me and know that when I go to bed at night the rest of the world is all I need to worry about. It’s my story, and it may not be the same as that child who walks with his head held low. I hate to imagine a story like that, where comfort is found outside of the walls that are supposed to keep you out of harm's way. I hate to think that the boy’s heart fears those that live within those walls, and see any out as a blessing. I wish I could take away all the pain in the world and give everyone that wonderful feeling of home.