Writing The Boy's Died [Another poem that was quickly written, needs polishing, blahblahblah]

[Mitch]

I
There once was a boy,
and he showered the world with love.

He'd twist and twirl on his hands and face,
land all over the place.
He'd tell his mother he loved her,
and they'd hug each other in their arms.

The boy is dead.
The boy is dead.
He's dead
He's dead.

Like a mirror you can't always see it right.
Like a kiss you can't always feel its might.
Like a boy you can't ever be so small.

Now's a time to be so small
in a time so big.
The boy's dead, took him in a hearse.

Hearses can't hear,
and I think the boy was alive.
And I think the embalmer didn't know.
Baby it's so long to go.
And the boy's dead.

He's dead.
He's not here to stay.
Bury him
solemn dismay.

Solemn dismay.

Bury him.
They killed him.
He's dead.

Now's a time to be so small
in a time so big.

II
Where's the feeling gone
where's the touch I've always known.
Dead.

Dead
on the surface
but alive
and moving.

The boy turned to a man.
And the man buried the boy.
And the boy was still alive.

I heard footsteps upstairs,
it was his mother.
The boy's mother and she was walking.
And I wonder if she's going to come.
Is she going to yell?

Why doesn't she sleep?
Why does she care?
The boy's dead.

The boy's bare.

He doesn't kiss his mommy anymore,
and he needs to go on when he feels so sore.
His mommy thinks he hates her,
he doesn't know anymore.

"Love you," she says so often.
And all the same she smokes away.
Killing herself where the love fades.
Selfish dead going away.
She's killing herself with her own ways.
The boy doesn't know what to say.

"Love you," she says so often.
And he loves her too.
But how he doesn't know.
Is it even true?

The man says nothing
and the boy wants to cry,
and kiss and hug her.
But the man's killed him.
You can't say much when you've died.
Best to just shut those eyes.

There is no answer to the love.
And so the boy gets more dead and done.

Wishing for something I've never had.
Wishing for faith that isn't from the sky.
When it comes it'll fall.
When it comes it'll probably break us both.

Wishing's for the boy.
He's got to die.
He's already dead.
Shot him right in the head.
But it wasn't anything he said.

Dreams are wishes and they are there.
And the boy wanted to be scientist.
Then a geneticist.
Where has it gone?
Where is it still alive?

Don't know.
It died.

Can you bury something that's always alive?
Can you feel something you want to bide?
Can you reach with your hands and feel?
I can't.
I've killed.

Dreams are fading
wishing for them back.
But can't have something
that isn't there.

Want to snub this all
like mommy does with her cigarettes.
Want to smoke in the ashes
like mommy does with her cigs.

Want to feel the smoke
as it burns
and feel my heart
beating, thudding
blurred.
Want to feel alive
not held back in this hell.

Want to even things out
want to know all ends well.

Want someone there that knows me more
that feels closer and can feel these sores.

Might as well not wish anymore.
Might as well just be so sore.

She smokes the cigarettes
and I wish my thoughts.
Contemplating what it's like to have lived
while she's sucking it dry as she inhales.

Told her once
told her twice
told her many times
too many to suffice.
And she still smokes every day.
And the smoke fills the room
and smell it in dismay.

Never gonna end
it's never gonna stay.
She'll kill herself
while the boy rots in his grave.

I guess it's an equal exchange.

A life for a death.
It's never going to change.
I guess it's an equal exchange.

Can I tell her I love her?
She can tell me the same.
Guess I just don't want to matter.
Guess I just feel me change.

Guess I'm going to have to
watch her die.
Nothing more to do
I'll be fine.

Nothing more to do
I'll be fine.

She'll fall over
it just takes time.
I'll even out
it just takes time.

Nothing more to do
I'll be fine.