A Modern Romeo

I'm just a boy out sitting on the street,
A pitiful soul is all I hold,
Memories hold a burning heat,
Of times gone by and friends of old.

She's just simple, sweet, and true,
Walking by with unmatched grace,
She doesn't know what I would do,
To see a smile upon her face.

As I stand to leave this street,
Suddenly she turns,
She looks me down from head to feet,
And sees how my heart yearns.

I see her look, yet still I go,
Then I hear her call my name,
I turn and wonder how she would know,
And realize that I'm insane.

She's halfway gone along the street,
I decide that there's no chance,
Somehow our eyes never meet,
Not even just a glance.

And now as the night approaches,
I lay me down to sleep,
I know not what news encroaches,
Which will cause this boy to weep.

The day of next, I sit in place,
Thinking of my choice,
I could make her see my face,
Or give only my voice.

An hour past her normal time,
I stand and head on home,
I tell myself she must be fine,
And through the streets I roam.

Through the alleys, as I pass,
I hear of recent theft,
I find the window, watch through class,
As the news changes to death.

A burning in my gut begins,
I try to peel away,
I pray to God, repent my sins,
Ask what he's trying to say.

I see her face upon the screen,
Now I cannot move,
With open mouth, I want to scream,
God, what must I prove?

I stumble back, and hit a wall,
I feel a rush of air,
I find my voice, right then I squall,
And collapse in a heap, right there.

Awakening, I look around,
And find I'm in a bed,
Through a door, a lot of sound,
Comes in to swirl my head.

I try to move, but feel restrained,
The bedding is so tight,
I struggle 'till my head is pained,
I begin to lose my sight.

I wake again, this time I'm free,
I feel a presence near,
I rub my eyes so I can see,
And then they fill with fear.

Pictures line the wall of her,
Life has left her eyes,
Am I a suspect? It's absurd,
They see my words as lies.

Involuntarily confined,
Nothing seems to fit,
As I dig within my mind,
There's one repeated hit.

Asking for a pen, I wait,
Finally one is given,
I scrape my shoe, create a slate,
Write where my life has driven.

In the morning at first light,
I barely catch a breath,
A secretary screams in fright,
A witness to my death.

Awake again, I see no saints,
Nor the burning pits aflame,
Another bed, just as quaint,
Have I gone insane?

Left to live alone in fear,
All I feel is pain,
This time I make the pen a spear,
This time my blood is rain.