i had heard stories enough from grandfather
stories that could light up movie theaters
if i were a director
but never told me bed rocks
beneath waterfalls bleed with sweats
like the boy who couldn't sleep
because the song of hunger is repeatedly
maintaining its rhythm through his small intestine
like September rain,
yet he shows no tears to the society
like fishes in the depth of the Atlantic,
maybe boys have eyes that are only exposed to pain
&
their tears are secured in the heavens
they fall as rain when pain fills them up
©artisticpo
A