The Pursuit of Happiness by Tommy Sandford

A boy walks alone in the dark of night. In the wolf light he howls, Only to have his screams drowned out by the passing cars. A boy is at a crossroads, His fists stay clenched, iron bludgers waiting to strike Down the way of kings, his steps echo his thunderous anger. Foot after foot, mile after mile, the storm refuses to abate. The miles become years as he peels away layers of himself. But as each mask comes off, his same face stares back at him defiantly. A boy is alone, as he was and as he will be again. And why shouldn’t he be? He is Brahma, Shiva, creator and destroyer. He is Cain, doomed to wander the earth. Existence is his only sin. At the bridge, he grabs the stone, The call of the void at the height of its power, But he does not answer. Away, he pushes. Again and again. He pushes away from the wall until the bridge is the ground and his fists are cracking pavement. Away and away until his tears run red down his face. A boy walks the path of regents, Fists unclenched, there is no skin to keep them together. In the darkness his metamorphosis is complete. The demon falls towards heaven, Ripped from his hellish mindscape.

24 Failure is his power, rage is his fuel, serene is his face. A boy walks home. The damage has been done. Such is the pursuit of happiness.