0 Small Corners

The child sits alone in the corner,
Arms embracing himself – softly,
Wishing silently that he wasn’t born from her,
Sadness pours over him from high aloft.
A new cloud has come near,
Looming over him like a skyscraper,
Rain drenches him with violent yells causing tears,
Causing him to dig heels,
In floor,
And push himself tighter into small corners,
Until he disappears.
The cloud drops one final flood of screams,
Nightmares, the future, this boy’s dreams,
And then Thunder lands its hand,
Pushing, turning, hiding, twisting, heels still digging,
Blow after blow like fighting a tornado,
Step dad steps away,
Storm releases, and calm falls over the land.

--Jared B., 38