When a boy hurts,
His laughter hides his tears.
His wit masks his pain.
His words get louder; more boisterous.
He sits in class and hides his insecurities, his work is incomplete.
He rough houses with his mates. He seeks connection.
He searches for purpose, he can’t find it.
He glimpses his future and the hurt abounds him.
It envelops him. He can’t see a way past on his own.
He needs help; he can’t ask for it.
Who will see through his bravado? Who will hear his cries?
It wasn’t me. I wish it were me.
In his mind, he has no value; no place.
He hides it. He is a man; not a wimp.
He has learned to suppress his emotions, no one wants to hear.
Will he ever know that the opposite is true?
His mind is temporarily at peace but his body fights the biggest fight of its life.
His teacher could have done better.
That teacher was me.
All I can do now is pray.
When a boy hurts.