Lost Boy

Lost Boy …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A child lost and hopeless in a dream

he could not bear to hear the scream

of his mother’s fear by a man unhinged

alcohol and demons filled he brings.

 

Forsaken but not taken, sorrow

filled his soul and all his tomorrows,

he felt alone, through darkest nights,

filled with fear, of mother’s plight.

 

Depths of scary shadows, frozen still

afraid to awaken, sweating his fill

from the dirty streets to mountain high

a peace came over him with a deep sigh.

 

Like an eagle flying full, his vision centered

this life a boy of deep sorrow entered

casting demons, ghosts and anger far away.

He wanted love, and mother to stay

tears could not stop flowing, as death

took hold, and the final blow was met.

 

She died in his arms, as angels plucked

her soul and left him, now alone a boy,

lost in himself and forever destroyed.

 

Vincent Moore 2018

Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more.

He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published.In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.
Vincent Moore

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Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more. He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published. In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.

2 thoughts on “Lost Boy

  • August 8, 2018 at 8:06 PM
    Permalink

    A dark and sorrowful tale of the seemingly harshness of life, where innocence is stolen, where hurt is embedded and hope a tenuous string so easily broken. Yet life is not without purpose and the lessons we learn necessary in a souls development: at least that is what I believe. Although pain echoes in our memories, we can aspire to let them be and accept the path given to us. Letting go is so difficult but a necessary choice when sorrow can indeed pull us down into the depths of the abyss. Deeply emoted and felt Vincent. Cheers!

    Reply
  • August 9, 2018 at 8:56 AM
    Permalink

    So true my friend, although my past was very unpleasant as a boy and teen, it gave me resolve. Being one of many survivors it strengthened me over the years. Though having a vivid recollection of these horrific events allows me today to pen around them, certainly I use metaphors, but never forgetting that many of those experiences were felt by me as a lost boy but thankfully found and mentored by an angel, god bless his heart, RIP my muse. Thank you Tony for your comment, much appreciated. Cheers

    Reply

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