I think it's funny
How at this tender age,
We've already told ourselves
We'll never find love.

And you,
Probably the most
Lost
Of us all.
At the end of the night,
When you're left all alone,
What demons are creeping
Into your brain?

With your 16-year-old
Face,
Stretched over bones
Too old to be in a body
This young.
Only confirmed with
Those coffee-tinted eyes,
That have seen
Far too much already,
Witnessing vivid daydreams
Morphing into nightmares.

It's hard to forget
That sparkle in your eyes
When you're scared,
Rushing you,
Transforming you back to a boy,
In a man's body.

That look of haunting.
Like empty hallways
With no way out.
I've always lived for
The light
At the end of the tunnel.
I can hand you
A lantern now.

And as I say
Sweet dreams,
I hope you're smiling
Just as bright.

For once,
A nightmare
Has become
A dream.