Spiralling

• Jas Choo, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

He forces himself to pick up the mouse, to tune out his thoughts, he forces himself to forget.
He beats himself up, for there are many worse off, too many.

His laughs are beginning to become fainter, his eyebrows drawn together these days, and his face no longer lined with smiles,
His eyes will remain dry, though, because boys are not supposed to cry.

His mother asks if he is alright, (of course he says yes), and his friends do not notice, they never did, why would they?
His light is flickering weak now, but by this time, he will not care and will be glad to say goodbye.

He moves around in groups but he does not fit in, he is fading away now.

But I cannot stand by and write this tale, idle, and wait for another to fall,
I have seen too many build up impenetrable walls.

So please, dear reader, hold out your hand, guide him and befriend him.

I implore you, do not let him waste himself.
For the world has yet to know him, and he has only just begun.