Broken youth

I look into the flames, captivated by shame and terror, seeing a life of mistakes.

The raging fire, desperate for relief, it begs and cries for solace.

Within the fear is a small child, lost and alone, screaming for something, for a light.

No response follows, only silence and dispair, terror gripping at the heart.

As I look away from the fire, it draws me back, screams of agency echo as a child weeps.

I know not who the voice belongs to, only that it curses me evermore for not acting.

Both the voice and I, we know the weight of the burden of the fear, our hearts shattered and broken as the sobs of youth echo.

This voice and that child, know to me they are.

Young and abandoned, terrified to walk on their own, scared to move along.

Child of the past and youth, voice of the future and wisdom.

One soft and faint, another harsh and loud, together they are one.

A youth on their own, a solitary elder enraged by time, together as one.

As I look away from the fire, it draws me back, screams of agency echo as a child weeps.

I know not who the voice belongs to, only that it curses me evermore for not acting.

Both the voice and I, we know the weight of the burden of the fear, our hearts shattered and broken as the sobs of youth echo.

I watch as a child is born, warm and loving surroundings, safe in mother's embrace.

Next follows adolescent apathy, the child, they are scared and neglected, forgotten and abused.

Finally comes the adult reality, bitter and somber, awaiting a light of hope, anything at all.

Then it hits me, the weeping child and the screaming voice are me, reaching out for anyone willing to listen.