There was once a boy who knew nothing but the color red to be true.
He saw it soak the sands, he held it in his hands, and he witnessed it circle around his mother’s head for this he did not understand.
He could feel his bones tremble as the ground did the same.
The walls concealing him from the desert winds began to crumble and slip in shame.
Caged within the only world he knew, the darkness and dust would carry him home,
To a place he once drew on a little shell that turned his mother blue.
Her skin cold to the touch, the silence could no longer be heard,
Over the deafening roars of the black-clouded sky and the bombs that built the only walls he knew,
The flames began to paint the horizon, a color he knew to be true, as the cries of the children lost shattered the sun in two,
His innocence was taken hostage and his smile was now buried deep inside,
Twenty one pilots broke the sky above, spilling blood and hiding lies in the unspoken goodbyes.
The boy was now among the ones in the clouds above, holding his mother’s hand as his bones lay buried beneath the sand.
There was once a boy who knew nothing but his smile that was taken for this he began to understand.
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