Work Text:
In poetry class, Mr. Anderson was always told to speak up, to sound his 'barbaric yawp'.
This yawp had bubbled up, waiting to erupt as his anxiety bubbled over into blinding anger.
Now, it spews out, sounding out to the unforgiving and broken world, at the retched man who calls himself a ‘father’, a title no longer deserved in his stripping away of his own son’s one true passion and reason.
Todd’s yawp spreads the agony he feels far out past the mountains and into the breeze, ruffling the trees as snow falls hard on him like his tears flowing onto frozen land where he and his love would once stand.
His poetry could never even word the indescribable, crushing pain of a true yawp
A crow sounds, its yawp nowhere near as devastating, as agonizing as Todd's, born in hope for something more in the reality of his despairing life of fulfilling other’s destinies and working for a place to belong in this world.
This feeling, born from the one who showed him hope,
now in death reveals to him despair.
He crawls back to the places where he would yawp with Neil over their crushed dreams,
nagging parents, all complaints seemingly with time to be fixed and figured out, as long as he had him.
Now his yawp sounds full of pain, as he is empty without his beloved companion,
his inspiration and reason to preserve amidst the pain.
Without him, how can he write again?
Will his yawp ever reach his ear that can no longer hear?
To the beloved soul that is no longer here?
It all feels to be in vain, sounding a cry that could never reach the depths of one in hatred with himself.
He blames the world, not understanding how such a wonderful person could not love himself as much as he loves him,
seeing how a yawp is never enough.