The Boy They Forgot

The Boy They Forgot There was once a boy with hollow eyes, Who wandered streets beneath darkened skies. His ribs like shadows pressed his skin, For hunger gnawed deep from within. No whispers of love, no caring hand, Just empty glances from a careless land. He begged for bread, they turned away, "Not my child," they'd coldly say. Nights were cold, his pillow was stone, The winds sang songs of being alone. He stared at windows that glowed with light, Wishing, just once, he’d sleep full at night. But no one cared — not a soul would see The boy too tired to beg on his knee. So hunger grew fierce, and anger turned wild, And darkness swallowed that broken child. He stole to survive, he lied to get by, The world called him cruel, yet none asked why. His hands turned rough, his heart grew cold, A boy once fragile — now ruthless, bold. "Monster!" they screamed, "A villain! A thief!" Yet none remembered his quiet grief. They cursed his name, they mocked his face, Forgetting the child they’d left in disgrace. So tell me now — whose fault was it all? The boy who stumbled and chose to fall? Or the crowd that watched him waste away, And never once reached out to say, "Come home, child — you're not alone. We'll warm