He was once a joyful kid,
He thought he had a picture-perfect family.
He loved everyone around him,
He had the joys of the world;
He was happy.
Yet the allegers came into the scene,
Brutally murdering his happiness,
He cried for days, of course,
But after a day he always shrugged it off,
He never knew what it meant.
Day by day, the sky grew darker,
His parents constantly shouted,
His afflictions constantly battered him,
The wolves wounded him deeper,
Yet he never, understood.
Until that day arrived,
Raging on, the darkness came,
Abusing him,
Pleads for help, rejected,
Ending the catastrophe unsolved.
He cried for justice,
He cried for his mother's tears to halt,
He cried for his father's tyranny to stop,
He cried for his innocence to return,
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
His innocence was too young to die,
Yet he never understood;
No one, understood,
He knew all, but was kept silent,
Again, no one understood.
Havoc kept tormenting him,
Scraping off the joy he's ought to see,
His everything changed,
No one understood,
His solitude, gone.
Years passed, love hit him,
But love too deranged for anyone to understand,
Cowardice enveloped him,
Hiding his afflictions
Towards his afflictor.
Confused, deranged, demented,
He struggles to write these flurries of words,
Stringing a pointless cause,
Echoing in his head,
The truth will never set me free.
He struggled in fifteen years,
And it never ended,
Seeking the truth he desires,
Losing who he was,
Losing who he should be.
He found his empire in words,
He found his art in poetry,
He found his solitude in himself,
But weak still is his heart,
Weak from years of hatred.
He wishes for all to end,
For his love to cry for him,
When he vanishes,
And thee, I feel my heart sinking;
He never bid farewell to Madness.
**** it. This is me.