ticking bomb

Sometimes I want to shake him
Rattle his little body,
In the vainest of effort,
For a simple reaction.
Inevitably negative
But an acknowledgment.
Maybe with his brain
Sloshing back and forth
Hemorrhaging and bruised
He might wake up from this.
Look around and see,
The beautiful things that remain.
Casting aside his darkened,
Cloudy lens of hatred.
Silently defiant, always indifferent.
His harsh angry scowl
Shadows his delicate features.
Scrawny arms folded,
Tiny fists clenched
As if the slightest irritant
Would trip the wire
For the vengeful ticking bomb
Inside.

Most times I just want to hug him
I want to apologize.
For every evil human
That has wounded him.
Broken his spirit.
For every bloody nose,
And blackened eye.
I could kill them.
He flinches in fear,
Eyes always downcast.
Like a beaten puppy.
When his big brown eyes well up,
With the tears of suppressed rage
It breaks my heart
Again and again.
I struggle to understand
How an eleven year old
Could possibly be so angry.
Hopelessly jaded, so young.
Seemingly without a future.
Destroying his own chances,
With every listless shove.
I long to tell him that he is loved
Without reason or precedent.
I believe in him.
I see the potential.
Inside.