Smile for me...

The four year old boy is covered in bruises.
I can tell he feels it's uselessness.
To defend himself.
Blood drops to the floor.
There aren't tears in his eyes anymore.
Blood on his shirt.
And a cut that looks like it hurts.
I want to reach out and help him out.
But it doesn't work he see's me and his eyes are full of doubt.
He looks really familiar.
Something about the way he holds his anger in.
And lets everything get under his skin.
That catches my attention.
And at the peak of tension.
An explosion.
A new kind of anger was woken.
I know who he is now.
And I don't know how.
He's me.
But the differnece is hard to see.
I know how he got the cut on his face.
I know he feels, out of place.
Two girls crying in the distance.
He's being beaten but shows no resistance.
Blood gushing.
The blood is rushing.
His moms passed out.
She's on the couch.
I want to help him.
But I can't win.
Everything I do seems faint.
And I can almost feel his pain.
But that's not on his mind.
For his sisters, he's fine.
The blood scares one of the sisters.
He covers it up with a hand full of blisters.
He prays to god for help.
Nobody but me understands how he felt.
Dreams remind me of how I lived back then.
The boy has to go to sleep and do it all again.