At three,

he pranced around,


chasing that dark figure



who tagged along on sunny days,




just cast about on the ground.
At six,

he produced a shadow puppet show with his fingers.


The reflections of
A dog,

a horse,


a rabbit.

Yes, they were now his recruited subjects.





At ten

he became wary of it,



why was it following him,




mirroring his every move?
At thirteen,

it became a part of him.



They moved swiftly,

as one,


camouflaged,



unnoticed.
At sixteen,





he lost it.
At seventeen,





he caught it,



slinking off to be



the shadow
of someone else.

At nineteen,

it could no longer be



at the mercy




of his bad actions.

It bound him


to the shackles
of restrain,


as well as freedom.




Consequence.




Revenge.





Shadow.