the devil’s heist stole my heart
and i’ve been running after it ever since
cornered in my mind’s own hell
for someone’s mistake
it didn’t matter that i was a child;
still, bewildered and blindsided by the wild.

and i sat on the ledge that night
looked out to sea in a desperate plight
a lone lighthouse in the distance
and i thought, maybe it’d have the answers;
“will it be alright?” i ask
it flickered and stuttered –
an infectious melancholia i wield perhaps.
it said it didn’t know.

stars all fell at my feet
the light at the end of the tunnel is bleak
the past haunts me like the Drury Lane ghost
even then when it is now cast in stone;
the memories are just as sensitive
as cutting the wrong wire to disarm a bomb.

and i’ve been estranged from my innocent soul
and i’ve been running after it ever since
too ashamed to recognise the face
staring back at me in the mirror
all i feel is numb
as my world became a grief-filled void.

in loving memory of Mathéo.