metafiction

if he had been someone who cried when the flowers dropped their petals

who held a funeral for his brother's goldfish,

if he had been someone who held his mother's hand while crossing the street

who ran away from the boys on the playground,

if he had been someone who dreaded his birthday, wore glasses, comforted his comrades, loved his sister, then maybe, just maybe, the reader would understand how he moved

through the carnage, killing-

he wasn't, but that doesn't matter.

his past was written for the lock of pandora's box

to keep the hope inside us all.