This Boy,
he walks down the hallway,
he feels the stares,
hears the whispers,
like screams in his ears.

The hallway, a warzone,
his no mans land, every face belongs
to an enemy. He fights a constant battle to
stay alive, to stay sane.

The only way to live is to:
close your ears to anything, head down, hood up, look small,
and walk fast.

But no matter how hard he tries
the whispers and taunts pierce his psyche, scar his mind.
The pushes and shoves bruise his heart and his skin.

The enemy gains ground,
he thought all was lost, he was about
to throw up the white flag,
to surrender,
to give in to eternal darkness,
eternal sleep,

eternal relief.

He walks through the warzone,
head down as usual, but something happens,
something thats never happened before.
He hears a voice, not like the whispers
and taunts, a kind voice saying one simple word.

Hi.

That one word, that kindness,
was enough to save his life. This person,
the one that said, hi. Is his saving grace,
his best friend. A person to help him battle
through the warzone.

They were a single person,
both fought the same battle, both had the
same straight battle scars covering their skin.

Together they were a wall,
unbreakable, unscratchable, nothing
got through. The whispers bounced off,
the bruises faded and only went skin deep.

They were each others crutch,
something to lean on when the battle gets tough,
someone to depend on when they fall down,
someone to get them back up everytime

But one day,
his guardian angel, his ally,
didn’t show up,
gone without a trace, not a word,
not a whisper, not a letter,
not a sign,
nothing.

He became lost,
the whispers became howls in his ears,
vibrating,
reflecting off the inside of his skull.
The shoves became stabs to the chest
each one closer to the heart.

After one hard day in the warzone,
what felt like a millenium later, he found a letter,
He recognized that hand writing, his heart raced,
he tore open the letter like a lion tears apart a zebra.

The letter read,
Hi,
I’m sorry im gone
My family moved,
and I’m in the psychiatric ward,
I almost gave up. But today they finally let me
write this letter to you.
Being surrounded by
all these white walls and strange faces, I
imagined each face was yours. But being
surrounded by these faces I learned. Some
of them are exactly like us fighting in that warzone.
We aren’t alone, never truly. And I discovered when
I want to give up I can’t, not for me, but for you.
So this is why I'm writing this now, not for me for you,
never give up every battle ends. And when this
battle ends I hope you will be victorious,
I hope I will see you again some day.

Those words hurt,
only at first,
like a stab to the heart.
Salty water flowed down his cheeks.

Tears?

He hasn’t cried since his friend left.
He thought these tears were signs of weakness
streaming down his face.

After reading that letter over, and over,
he realised that tears are not signs of weakness,
but badges of courage.

Tears shouldn’t be feared or
hated. They are a sign of hurt and compassion tears,
they are more than just salty water.

With more of these badges
of honor running down his face,
he resolved to be strong for his friend,
for his family, for the battle will
end he will whether it out and
come out victorious.

So when his friend returns,
they shall not be disappointed,
they will be proud, they will smile
and laugh and revel with stories of
the battle

From that moment forward,
he valued life, he knew he was never truly alone,
so from that moment on he decided to be the
one to say hi, The one with kindness in his voice and
on his face.

He will be his own wall that can never fall.