The boy sits alone in the cellar
a gun resting firmly in his devil's grasp
while demons plague the dark corners of the room.
His only source of light gleaming from the furnace
staring back with its taunting yellow aura.
The hellish gates tempted him so
pleading for his compliance.
Reliance on pain meds had become too high
antidepressants were too weak to try.
“Is this my story, my legacy” he thought.
With every tear the shadows crept closer
feeding on the pain.
The strain was to much to bare.
“This isn’t fair, why me…”
And in the gallows of his mind,
a wilted flower suffocates.
Sunlight comes in many forms;
For him, a kind word, a smile.
How simple it was, but all the while,
he pondered long and hard sitting there,
in that uncomfortable fabric chair
as darkness embraced him like an old friend,
nearly taking him as it’s own.
But in this moment occurred a rarity.
A brief instant of uncertain clarity
that this was wrong.
He thought about his younger brother
who admired him so.
This was his soil.
He thought about his friends
who would surely miss him.
This was his water.
He thought about his parents
who had given him so much.
This was his sunlight.
He spun his head to look behind him
finding a light much brighter than he remembered.
The furnace embered with a dwindling light
but he was the victor of this fight.
His devil raged with fury and grabbed him by the collar
forcing doubt into his mind.
Offering a contract to be signed.
But he resisted and dropped the weapon.
The light grew brighter with every movement
he was on his way to self improvement.
Forcing his feet was no longer required,
his mind rewired and before long
the ice cold darkness was nearly gone.
He gazed up the stairs to his beacon of hope.
For the first time in a long time, his pedals stood up straight.