Troubled Youth [Poem Collection]

This Is It

Blades of grass dances in the meadow
Fields of fruits fresh off the trees
Birds of song flutter through the air
And the wind hollows; spring is here

Standing tall at the meadowlands center
A single willow blooming yellow
And sitting under its shadowy stature
Is a fair boy with eyes of the sky

"Why are people like the way they are?"
"Why are people driven by selfish desires?"
"Where's the morning of the self righteous?"
"Where's the night of the atrocious?"

Again and again he wonders
These thoughts chase for answers
But there's no one there to give them
And alas they remain as questions

The tears that were been held back
Finally breaks the barrier and waters the soil
A silent mourning for lost hope
A silent mourning for lost happiness

He stands up straight
Darkness clouds his vision
Like the clouds of grey that shadows the earth
This is it. This is it.

He climbs the tree, a branch after the other
And balances onto a thick one
A rope wrapped tightly around his neck
The other end tight around the branch
This is it. This is it.

One step. Two steps. And then a third.
He's at the hilt. The very tippy tip.
A decision that is his own
Stemming from a plan imagined a week before

He inhales his last sweet breath
"It will be over soon. In a moment of a second."
He exhales into the world he claims bitter
And finally..........he makes the fourth step.

This is it. This is it.