The sun beated on the teenage boy's face.
The sun was his cure.
His sadness left him, without a trace.
He believed In the power and beauty of nature.
Never, did he talk to the people at his school.
It just wasnt the same.
He longed for something new, something fresh.
Months and years passed by, offering nothing new.
He decided to end his life later on in the year..
His funeral was not remebered very clear.
Not a single tear was shed.
A single flower didnt bloom.
There wasnt even a moment of silence.
His death was nobody's doom.
Many centuries later, people came to appreciate.
By then It had been to late.
All the meories he had had with only himself
Became over grown...