Boston

Oh, how far I have fallen.
From the top of the mountain I sat, and now I have fallen to the deepest depths of hell.
The world looks so much different from down here.
It is in fact a cruel, forsaken place.

I sit alone, burning with sadness.
Slowly the burning will consume my heart, and then me entirely.
The world will watch, and yet none will see.
For I will hide the sight of such a thing, and no one will care to want to see.
They will all dance above me, and not a word will be spoken.
They'll live like nothing else matters, and nothing will.
The broken orphan will suffer his judgment.
And his lost family will never see this.
He will be gone before they notice, and when he is gone they wont care.

Oh, how forsaken the orphan's God has left him.
"Where are you?" he will call.
There will be no answer.
With no one to answer his call for help, for salvation the orphan will turn to something quite despicable.
He will go to that place, and he will feel safe.
And he will hurt, but his heart will not feel it.
The world will not see, the world's eyes are blind.
Blind to his pain, his suffering, to him.
Oh how can they not see how badly he hurts.
Does no one care?
or do they truly not see as he believes?
He asks the question repeatedly and with no answer he is left to decide for himself.
To leave this place.
Leave the hurt.
Maybe he will go to Boston.
Where no one will know his name.
Boston.