He was an only child,
All alone, emptiness slowly eating him inside.
He is the son, and also the daughter—
Their hopes rise too high,
He’s afraid of failure.

He hates how they think too highly of him,
Feels like he’s dying.
The void, the darkness,
Luring him to the shadowed side of the world,
Cruel and harsh.

No child deserves this grotesque path,
Pushed down by unrealistic expectations.
What a poor child,
Alone and scared,
His dreams snatched, crushed.

"Your dreams can’t be a future job,"
They say, again and again.
He’s exhausted,
Dreaming of being six feet under, anytime soon.

What a child,
An angel slowly corrupted
By those he calls home.
© All Rights Reserved
© Daniel Loï