He walked barefoot
and seemed exhausted.
And lost He was. In his thoughts.
He tried to remember something.
Tried so hard it hurt.
Visibly so as his eyes showed.
It must have been a long time since.
The last time he laughed his lungs out
Or cried his heart out.
Children play cricket in the streets.
Brings back old memories.
A phrase he now only knows how it’s spelt.
Hope is a wicked thing.
He hoped He didn’t have any.
As he laughed at the irony
He couldn’t afford to fail again.
Not at this cost.
So he had stopped trying.
Something shot through his arms.
It didn’t hurt.
Not a bit.
Lucky for him, Pain’s relative!
No expressions ever formed on his forlorn visage.
Not for a while now, anyways.
A little girl smiled at him on his way back home.
He doesn’t smile back. As has always been.
She ponders about his indifference.. why doesn’t he smile or Has he ever?
She doesn’t know, He has forgotten how.
(Title Inspiration: Metallica)