The Man Who Lived, The Boy Who Died

by derrjon

Summary:

This is how I succumb to the post-Banana Fish trauma. Because indeed, where there is tragedy, there is beauty and also poetry. And what is Ash if not all of them intertwined?

They dread him like fire
But he was a sun,
Born to shine and
Burn the darkness away.
He was just a boy— invincible and wild,
So they called him a beast
And obliterated the child.

He bore youth like a sin
On his hands was blood that
He would rather shed than draw.
His jade eyes preserved purity,
One that was stolen away.
But the pole-vaulting boy
Would never see him that way.

My darling boy,
My burning sun,
What have you ever done
To deserve this?
Death gave you the grace
That life never did.

The boy you loved,
He couldn’t stay home
Cause home is where you were.
And till his last breath,
He’ll think of your face
In pictures he couldn’t take.

And if you ever wondered what
You would be in another life,
Maybe a flower with thorns
One that cuts like a knife,
Unloved and shunned.
But he’d have loved you
No matter how you cut
For you’ll always be the flower
He swore to protect.

You were twice the man
The brutes ever were
And not even half the beast
They said that you were
For you were just a boy,
A star, burning too brightly
And fading too soon.