Alexa Daskalakis

The Boy Who Mistook Volume for Vision​​

They called it genius. He called it noise.

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There was once a boy
who thought noise was momentum—
that if enough people laughed,
he had built something real.

They found him after two clips
and called it brilliance.
They brought him into the room
like a storm front.
He arrived with nothing but a handle
and left with nothing but a shrug.

He was handed a stage,
offered gold just to speak—
and still said no,
because he’d never learned
how to hold anything
without it crumbling in his hands.

They called it youth.
They called it instinct.
But the only idea worth forgetting
was the one they thought would save them.

And now the only thing louder than him
is the silence he left behind.