Lost Boy

A poem for a friend of mine

Poor lost boy
you wander
endlessly in the maze
of your own making.
         Shaking
         with fury;
         terror;
         rage.
You dart around
trying to point
         fingers
         at the shadows
         in the mist.
Wanting ghosts
to take the
         blame.
But only
your own name
         echoes

         in the darkness.