deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Swing
Hello, my name is Anothy.
What I am about to tell you is sad, but true.
Sad for him, but not for you.
I tell a tale of sorrow & despair
about a boy that lost his way & was never aware.
You see, for the longest time
I was perched in that tree.
I watched that boy walk this street.
Every single day
he came to this place.
He would sometimes
walk up the lot
with tears on his face.
But, that didn't happen often,
he had too much pride.
He would hold his feelings back
& die a little more on the inside
each time
he did.
Every single day he did the same thing.
He would walk up this lot
& sit in that swing.
He had a lot of problems,
I could tell.
But, no one he could reach out to for help.
So, he sat there alone
in his own
little world
& swung back & forth.
He would do that again
& then back once more.
Then, place his feet on mother nature's floor.
He would always sit there for a while
& look up at the sky,
unless the sun was way too bright.
Then, he would skip that part
& just up & leave.
Then, he would return
the next evening.
The days' come to pass
& so did the years'.
But, his routine never changed,
he was always right here.
Nothing new ever came about.
But, that soon changed
& I will tell you why now.
5 years ago
he walked up this lot,
like he usually does,
still distraught.
He sat down in that swing
& swung
one last time.
Then, he put his feet on the ground
& proceeded to pull out a gun.
He looked at the sky
& let out a sigh.
Then, he closed his eyes
& put his head toward the ground.
A tear rolled out of his eye
before putting the gun in his mouth.
What happened next,
I think you know.
I grew to miss seeing that boy on that swing.
He may have thought he was important to no one,
but he was important to me.
Could I have stopped him? No.
To him, I was just a bird in a tree.
I'm sorry.
What I am about to tell you is sad, but true.
Sad for him, but not for you.
I tell a tale of sorrow & despair
about a boy that lost his way & was never aware.
You see, for the longest time
I was perched in that tree.
I watched that boy walk this street.
Every single day
he came to this place.
He would sometimes
walk up the lot
with tears on his face.
But, that didn't happen often,
he had too much pride.
He would hold his feelings back
& die a little more on the inside
each time
he did.
Every single day he did the same thing.
He would walk up this lot
& sit in that swing.
He had a lot of problems,
I could tell.
But, no one he could reach out to for help.
So, he sat there alone
in his own
little world
& swung back & forth.
He would do that again
& then back once more.
Then, place his feet on mother nature's floor.
He would always sit there for a while
& look up at the sky,
unless the sun was way too bright.
Then, he would skip that part
& just up & leave.
Then, he would return
the next evening.
The days' come to pass
& so did the years'.
But, his routine never changed,
he was always right here.
Nothing new ever came about.
But, that soon changed
& I will tell you why now.
5 years ago
he walked up this lot,
like he usually does,
still distraught.
He sat down in that swing
& swung
one last time.
Then, he put his feet on the ground
& proceeded to pull out a gun.
He looked at the sky
& let out a sigh.
Then, he closed his eyes
& put his head toward the ground.
A tear rolled out of his eye
before putting the gun in his mouth.
What happened next,
I think you know.
I grew to miss seeing that boy on that swing.
He may have thought he was important to no one,
but he was important to me.
Could I have stopped him? No.
To him, I was just a bird in a tree.
I'm sorry.
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