Faces In Glass

Hundreds of them peering down an endless, bright well,
sad men, sad women, throwing in, trying to sell
versions of themselves that have never known a sadness,
Driven forwards by a certain modern madness
of thumbs tapping, fingers swiping, a ballet for none to see,
done without knowing why, void of ecstasy.

Poem for ArccTheLad

I was nine and you were thirteen
just green text across a CRT screen
we spoke of hope, we spoke of dreams,
you said I’d forget you before fourteen,
and I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry you were right.

I was just a yellow sprout,
scarred too young, desperate to shout,
playing the game ’til 3 a.m,
I never said you were my best friend,
and I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry I never told you.

The kids at school beat you at times,
stole your nickels, poached your dimes,
you wished they’d answer for their crimes,
but we knew that would never happen,
you’re never quite too young to know
that sometimes, that’s the way things go,
and I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry life is like that.

And I hated all your inward spite,
imagined fangs flashing white-
said you were thin as matchsticks,
no way to fight back against those pricks,
and all the curses you could spew,
were aimed at me, but meant for you,
and I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry I forgot you.