The world of a lonely child,
Is a world of pain greater than any,
The child may seem happy,
That is only a face,
A masquerade of emotion to only blend in,
As the years fade and he becomes an alien among children
It is too late,
the loneliness that has lurked in the shadows
And blocked by imagination,
Has escaped,
And incased his heart in darkness,
It squeezed and turned,
Harder and harder,
With no escape,
The child suffers,
He may be kind,
He may be diligent,
He may be caring,
But he is marked by his loneliness,
A mark even greater than the scarlet letter,
A mark scarier than death,
No one would want to be his cure,
Because they are afraid of the mark,
Even though they are its weakness,
The child will grow evermore alienated,
Until he is incapable of blending,
And too reserved,
to reach out, anymore,
He is no longer a child,
But a fully grown adult,
Ready to leave and face the world,
Without a single person to call a friend,
Forever marked with loneliness,
He is cursed to be
Alone.