The Altered Story

I’m rewriting a story, perhaps it’ll rhyme.
Wash away old footprints in the sand of time.
Rewound back some years, we alter for glory.
An angry boy, but sad inside, he would weep for me.
Tell him that it’s okay—he still longs to be sure,
It works out in the end for those who endure.
So maybe these words open a path to redefine,
Clear out the fears and doubts, leaving them behind,
Give him something firm, a place to begin,
To change the steps from what had been.
He won’t push others away; he’ll draw them near.
Apologise to his sisters, show them he cares,
Not spit at the idea that love could be.
His world turned right-side up so that he can see
This wonderful child, so sweet with a twist,
He was a gift to us, a star that we wished.
But life gave him a lot, and he couldn’t cope.
Well, actually, he did—just not by the best means.
We can agree he tried; dealt a poor hand it seems.
A life marred by those who loved him close,
Exposed him to much that we must oppose.
How does he take the weight of all these pains?
Yet surprisingly he’ll rise to break off the chains
So on through the years, he goes on the same,
Till he meets the light on one glorious day.
A flower unfurls in bloom, dispelling gloom
He’d put down the lingering sense of doom.
Give him a kiss on the cheek for us,
Tell him that we wish him the best of luck.
A champion at heart he bore through that phase,
For the seeds he sowed, let him receive praise.
The boy would fight for us; he would yet press.
The boy would work for us; he would clean up this mess.
The boy is yet with us, he stands impressed.
The boy is us, our truth expressed.

Note: Redemption