But what if I, what if I trip?
What if I, what if I fall?
Then am I the monster?

-Shawn Mendes

Locked in his room

No paparazzi could find him here

Moonlight spilling through the curtains

The way hope had slipped out

The cracks of his fingers

What people saw outside

A youth with a lopsided smile

And mirth filled eyes

Aloof stride

Cold independence

But he believed he was what he became in these walls.

A beast.

Childhood to now

When everything held on to him

Now he had to hold on

Before

When he lived

Now he had to last

Just a little higher

He inhaled the smoke that was poison to his lungs

And it began to run in his blood

A fake smile

On a therapist's face

Anxiety on his mother's face

But he knew it was not for him she was worried

It was for his reputation

Move across the country

To another state

Where it rained like the blood

From his heart

And on the rain smeared ground

There was a rose on the sidewalk

A rose left behind

After a story was forgotten

Its thorns cut his skin as he touched it

But he decided to pick it up

.....

I hope you caught the metaphor in the last stanza <3
This one is the last poem of this story series, the next one is part of a different story