Such a pure being untouched by the air,
With a cloud of corruption over his chair.
A sudden switch had been flipped, and stuck there.
This being was spread with black all around,
Until one day this black caused a frown.
This black touched his heart and led him to quiver,
For from then on he carried a shiver.
He wore this chilled lonesome as a winter coat.
Never letting go til’ he cut his throat.
Not til this boy died , was then realized, that he is now truly alive.
A spawn of himself that no one could recognize.
Hatred stuck to it like tar and feather,
His mother and father feared he'd never get better.
He tried to explain of his constant pain,
Most thought he was doing in vain.
A select few stuck by his side,
Checking in every day and night.
Until one day he stopped on a stroll,
He closed his eyes and then took a toll.
The world had gotten the better of him,
But, he knew now, he could not let it win.
The constant pressure always keeping him down,
The pressure which caused him to frown.
He released the pressure with one simple trick,
He stood there and took a deep breath in.
What’s the point of living if you don’t stop to look around,
From then on, he never would frown.

One can never let the world win.