A boy stands still in a sea of faces, Frozen, heart racing, in a crowd that never notices. The air is thick with judgment, the trees beside him bare, Their branches reach like fingers, but no one cares. He’s a lost boy in a world too loud, Trying to climb but frozen by fear, his heart a shroud. The gravel path leads him nowhere, Dead trees line it like souls too tired to care. He wants to move, but the silence screams, And he wonders, “Can they see me? Or are these just dreams?”