A Boy Lost

Tears shed, soaked into a pillow,

drowning my cries where no one pries.

No one comes when I shout for Dad —

All I can do is pout.

Fingers clutch the blanket tight,

holding on through endless night.

Unable to speak; life seems so bleak.

Whispers: “No one cares.”

My life is replete with sorrow,

with no hope for tomorrow.

My childhood was dark, without a spark.

Where do I run? Will I not have fun?

Oh, how I am lost, with no hope of the cross.

Christ cut like a knife through my fragile disguise,

laying bare the boy who feared he’d never rise.

Empty. Empty. Empty.

Tears aplenty; the boy paid the cost,

a shepherdless lamb the night has lost.