But what if I, what if I trip?
What if I, what if I fall?
Then am I the monster?
-Shawn Mendes
Locked in his room
No paparazzi could find him here
Moonlight spilling through the curtains
The way hope had slipped out
The cracks of his fingers
What people saw outside
A youth with a lopsided smile
And mirth filled eyes
Aloof stride
Cold independence
But he believed he was what he became in these walls.
A beast.
Childhood to now
When everything held on to him
Now he had to hold on
Before
When he lived
Now he had to last
Just a little higher
He inhaled the smoke that was poison to his lungs
And it began to run in his blood
A fake smile
On a therapist's face
Anxiety on his mother's face
But he knew it was not for him she was worried
It was for his reputation
Move across the country
To another state
Where it rained like the blood
From his heart
And on the rain smeared ground
There was a rose on the sidewalk
A rose left behind
After a story was forgotten
Its thorns cut his skin as he touched it
But he decided to pick it up
.....
I hope you caught the metaphor in the last stanza <3
This one is the last poem of this story series, the next one is part of a different story
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Poetry[ poetry/short stories/collection ] ❝ you made the truth into what I lied, and I lied that I was beautiful ❞ . . . a collection of rainbows, theories, and dreams, of words faded around the edges with meanings that nothing could ever fade. a...
