He watched him from the corner of the room-
head down, pen in hand,
trying to remain focused on
the paper in front of him-
intent yet struggling-
forever struggling.
Only fifteen,
he had seen his share of troubles-
family problems,
drugs and alcohol,
abuse.
From their conversations,
He understood his rebellious spirit.
he sought an identity-
in a world defined by cliches
he sought permanence-
in a world where nothing endures,
except change.
for a brief moment he looked up-
our eyes met, and he gave me
a foolish grin
The one that used to make me-
want to backhand him,
yet I smiled in return,
for I am wiser now.
and I also have visited his
world.
For when you live in a world-
where change has been-
the only constant in life,
you more often than not,
cling to your armor.
foolish grins-
no exception.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem