Forsaken and desolate, was he
While others peripherally watched

He sat there all alone

Thinking, wondering, contemplating

Melancholy permeated his heart

His mind vanquished by his thoughts

He sat there all alone

His head propped up by his shaking hands

He felt no shame

He felt no care

He sat there all alone

Comprehending that in that moment it was ok to cry

He was raw

He was real

He sat there all alone

Unrefined, unseasoned, unrepentant

He needed ventilation

He needed to be expressive

He sat there all alone

With his puddle of sanguine emotions

It is ok to cry

It is ok to weep

He sat there all alone

Wailing, howling and keening into chaotic air