The poor boy was dumb, the rich boy so bright,
The former spoke not to the latter his plight,
His sad, muted countenance echoed the night.
His friend, while well off, lacked in resilience,
Cursed by the light and the aches of his brilliance,
Not long had he left to make any difference.
The rich boy, pains from his glow had contributed,
The smarts of his luminance to his death attributed,
His final desire, his riches distributed.
And so the poor boy in his grief became wealthy,
lived on in his memory, always happy and healthy.
Or so they thought...