Sinned Boy Poem by Alexander Foald

Don’t disappear, please don’t let yourself go
Stay here beside me, next to the light’s tow
Growing boy wanting to love someone new
Never knew he wasted such grace from mother’s hull

And that’s what hell comes for tonight
The devils pick him up and send him down hard
Imagination runs wild and out empty from the bottle
His head hits the door and fall into the floor, dead by arrival

Is this a sin, created only to be done and repented in leisure?
Is this an art form, made by god’s joke to be ridiculed with pleasure?
Is this a dream, spared from our soul when we born as beginners?
Is this some kind of show, and there’ll be prizes for those great winner?

I’m laughing at his stoic dead face as they push the cart
Out of the house and up the rear, they go into the dark
The mother cries for hours and hours, remorsefully wounded
But nothing can be done, and their lives go on in time