Analysis of Little Boy

When I was a little boy,
I felt forgotten. I drank
from the moist thirst that
was driven from the waterless
fountain. I felt my first institutional
tears slipping from my pillow.

I felt trapped by the honesty
of my sorrow. I became who I
am and I knew who I would never be.
I felt like I was lost in the
forest to misunderstand.

Somebody told me you were there,
hiding in the breeze, the walking
knock, it blows from the back
shutting me out, washing away all
my agony.

My cry sneaks by me.
I try to be brave and strong,
where is my courage?
Why doesn't it look for me?

I feel all my rage
When I shake my hand.
When I was a little boy.