And he was

the kind of boy who

spoke his mind,

who ran through the field

with a lighter

in his hand,

but who kept a 

hose

close by at all occasions.

See,

he was the kind of boy

who wanted to 

set his heart

on fire,

who wanted to feel it burn,

who knew,

at some point in his life,

it would happen-

his whole life would be

torn.

So,

he went about life

taking all the risks he could take,

making all the memories

he could make,

never stopping

to doubt his decisions,

never pausing

to analyze his past.

He didn't let the possibility of

falling

determine his tasks,

because he knew he would

fall,

and he knew he would

crash,

so instead of worrying about things

that will one day burn,

he made sure they would never

turn to ash.

He was the kind of boy who

wasn't afraid to live,

and wasn't afraid to die,

who never stressed 

over obstacles that were clear

to the eye.

He wasn't 

the kind of boy who was 

scared

to make mistakes.

He was the kind of boy

who wasn't afraid

to break.