The Little Girl on the Bus🍃🍃

The Little Girl on the Bus🍃🍃

Looking at the
tall, sombre boy,
with bags under his eyes, 
the little girl asked, 
"Are you a lost angel?"
a look of exhaustion,
and disorientation,
loomed in his eyes,
but he smiled faintly.
Confused, the little girl, 
asked again,
"Are you a lost angel?"
"No", the boy replied,
even though he was talking
to the girl, 
his eyes and mind were,
someplace else, 
like lost in the pool,
of his own thoughts. 
The little girl,
touching his arm 
this time, asked again,
"Then why do have, 
these cuts on your wrists?",
the boy was taken aback, 
not expecting people to notice,
the anguish and agony,
he inflicted on himself.
"Why did you ask me that?",
said the boy, softly,
almost murmuring,
"My dad says, 
people with marks,

on their wrists 
are lost angels.", 
the little girl replied.
There was nothing but pure innocence,
in her voice, and in her eyes,
"Why does he say that?"
the boy asked,
clearly muddled,
"Because they join,
the other angels in heaven,
because the world wasn't, 
kind to them, so they finally
find happiness up there.",
The girl's words, 
still innocent as ever,
baffled this disconsolate boy,
compelling the boy to take a breath, 
before he could say anything,
"I think your father is a very wise man",
the boy answered,
looking at this little human being,
in wonder, 
he had never been,
so moved by,
someone's words before,
he thought.

"Yes, he is, 
dad also says,
my mother was,
an angel too,
who went to find,
happiness up there."

~anoushka