A Soul That Could'Ve Been Saved Poem by Terra Bartlebaugh

He was society’s disease at only sixteen years old,
He was a nice, quiet boy who always did as he was told.

He never rebelled and never talked back,
The teachers knew he was as sharp as a tack.

Home, though, was a place he liked more than school,
It was a place where two strangers were constantly cruel.

The boy always cried himself to sleep every night,
He listened to his parents downstairs fight.

He heard them yell, scream, and his mother cry,
Everyday he wondered why.

He hurt himself to kill the pain,
His anger was something he couldn’t contain.

When he got involved to stop them fighting one night,
He felt his father hit him with all his might.

He ran upstairs, angry and fuming,
Inside himself, his thoughts became consuming.

This routine went on for several more years,
As this continued, so did the tears.

One day he couldn’t take it anymore,
He went downstairs to even the score.

The boy yelled and screamed at his dad,
He saw his father go red as he became raving mad.

His father called him worthless and stormed out the door,
His words hit the boy hard until he couldn’t take any more.

He ran upstairs and locked the door,
He set a small chair on the floor.

No one would understand or knew how he felt,
Now he’s sadly hanging from the light by a leather belt.