Misplaced

A child

No more than 2 feet

Weaving through tall grasses

Alone

He pulls through further and further

But to no avail

Frightened, cold, frail

And uncertain

Blinded by the weeds

His eyes wet

Cheeks turn pink

In a cumbersome field

Nowhere

Just a boy

Outside, by himself

The skies offer no guidance

The earth heeds no tears

And the moon is, but a bystander

They only leer

A never-ending cycle

Of miring and gawking

He is alone and lost

Only to remain in the shadows

Of the behemoths who choose

To watch