I hear him through passing
Cries of a teenage boy
I barge in to find him
Slumped over his bed, phone in hand
Hunched in the position
Of a deeply engrossed Android user
Tears and snot drip from his face
I take a knee, and adorn my embrace.
It doesn't matter why
It doesn't matter who
Not to me
My only concern is his sadness.
Social ******* media
Is a poison.
I never had it as a kid
So, it's a hard one to relate to.
To him, I am just a lame old man
Past his prime, no one wants to hear.
To me, he is how I used to be
When I was 14...
But that doesn't matter to the 14.
And it wont matter, perhaps until the 20s.
I sit out the back, in the shed, and write this
While he, questions his place and his sanity
My lil man, my boy, my son
Cope as you will...
Dinner will be ready soon.