Paper Boys

The only name I can recall
Dehumans and destroys
Builds up an expectation
I hope he never fills

Where did he go?
the dirty shoes and smiles
just bones: elbows, knees
When 'rocks' were grey and solid
Before concrete, awful streets

Where is the boy?
He has hopes and dreams
Didn't run so easily
He thinks 'food' is to be eaten
What did you do with him?

I never knew this little boy,
but I know he must have been
i see it somewhere behind
the face- so feeling-less and masculine
now substituted with this pretend man

On a shelf of paper boys
who's names are almost gone
But there is him who knows the names
carved each into his hand

Looking for the stolen children
even as the world forgets the boys
and the men themselves
that someone calls them 'child'
and claims each as his own

I don't know each, or every
but those plams engraved
with whitened scars
won't forget the boys

The scribe is never silent
he pleads, not for the men
but for the boys,
the paper children
written into his hands