The Boy Who Chose Life

Absent are the stars from the rippled sky
Blood red moon hangs high
A stillness to the world as angels brood.

Tonight is the night the unknown does not mean peace
His mouth posed questions, all of them unanswered
But if he could choose, he would pick life.

Darkness wound round his heart
Curled in a mist so white, they tackled
The shadows lurked and bide their time.

He stood at a point where he could tilt good or evil
Voices whispered in his ears
To shift his balance, they whispered.

As if the demons in his head could not destroy
Fear number his mind
The world was truly cold for him

Wherever he went, however bright the light
The warmth eluded him; even though it floated around in a blinding fog
He still had to struggle to catch some.

The demons dived on contempt
They were of rotten soul; perhaps they had none
They fed on bitterness, so much he had in him.

He considered closing his eyes forever
It could be a form of freedom
Perhaps by dying, he would choose life.

But that was the coward's way out
So, to live, he answered the call of the angels
And by magic, the fog started to lift.

The mist then cleared
The demons; they displayed decorum
He refused to look into the eyes that shone bright with hate.

His fears stayed far away
Afraid of the boy who was now a man
The boy who chose life.

Author's BIOGRAPHY

Photo credit: uckg.org