A boy sits silently in the night, the moon shining in through his window.
He sits and he thinks, he thinks of all that has happened and all that he's lost
And he begins to cry. And as he cries he calls out.
" Why? Why am I alone?! Why do I sit here and cry?! Why can't I stop crying?! "
But nobody answers him.
Nobody is willing to tell him why.
He is alone, his cries will never be heard and his tears will sink into the darkness never to be seen.
I don't really know if this is a poem or what but I wrote it so I guess it's something.
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It's a nice little piece. I'm not sure whether it's a poem or not I couldn't tell you. I guess you could call it a prose.
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Well I don't really know either. Thanks Punx!
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