You’re driftwood floating underwater

Not supposed to be there
this we know.

Yet there you are

you’ve gone away
for no good reason
other than the pain
which, at thirteen,
at any age,
no one should have to be.

Yet so it is,
today, this age,
this age of advanced
technology, of
answers at our fingertips

Can anyone tell us why
he is in the wind now?

To be far from those who hated him
he was willing to be so far from those who love him

For him, it is too late,

now we look desperately for some way
to keep others from drowning.

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