In a crisis, the boy sits on a hill
What was once is not and nill
What was known is lost in the chill
Slowly, yet quickly, time stands still

Lost in thought, time and space
Perplexed look on the boys face
Due to truly a puzzling case
Understanding dissolves trace after trace

Thinking hard of this new dilemna divine
Where logic and chaos seperated by a thin line
Scissor’s have cut the tie that did bind
The fruit severed from life’s vine

Losing in touch with what once did define
Lost completely, deleted from one’s mind
Thoroughly, every thing representing be benign
And the grapes of wrath have fermented to wine

The cause of this confused mentality
Causing this chaotic calamity
Lying on the utter edge of insanity
Is the boy’s loss of his identity

Lost are the rules to this game
Lost is his guilt, innocence and shame
Lost is his mind which does maim
All that remains is his devalued name

He tries deperately to know who he is
But the more he tries, the more he will miss
Falling, drifting into a mental abyss
Confusion and fear tighten his fists

He tries desperately to slow down
So that he can take a look around
To see where it is that he is bound
And hoping to see what can’t be found

He looks above for loving hope
To help him up this vertical slope
Needing a guiding hand to cope
Reaches up blindly and grasps a rope

He pulls himself up through the pain
With each achievement he does gain
And relieves the troubles he has sustained
Sheltered from the cold, harsh January Rain

Slowly the weights drop down
To the bottom where they are bound
As the depression falls pound after pound
Gradually, his identity, the boy had found

But only a minor step he does realize
For a great distance up the rope he must rise
Fallen from this great demise
Controlled by one’s foolish lies

For many a times no comprehension
For many a time a solo session
So after a great many recession
The boy is thrown into a depression

A depression causing him to close
A wall that knew no friends nor foes
A sad portrait of a lonely pose
Sharp thorns protect but a dead rose

A new problem that’s not quite new
A sad story that’s utterly true
Seems nothing the boy could do
But just hope you don’t lose your sanity, too

An open wound only now does heal
An emptiness only now does fill
Now moves what was once still
The boy climbs down a mountain what was once a hill