There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose fingers stretched feeble and thin
A note he did write with all of his might
And he hid it on his person before his journey did begin

To whom the note was for, it was never addressed
The man never did disclose
For reasons unclear and secrets untold
This note was the way he chose

"I used to be one with my own darkness
And it fed me fat with lies and fear
It upset people so and everyone left me
Even those I held so close and dear

It seeped into my skin and ate at my bones
It drove my mind insane
I knew I'd rather brave the walk
If I didn't, I'd die in vain

I'd walk for miles for I wish not to die alone
I'd walk in search of anyone
I'm wary of the shadows that lurk behind me
So I choose to walk into the sun

Now I've written this note in diminishing hopes
Should soon if I fall to the ground
At least someone would come to know of me
Should this parchment be discovered and found"

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose note bore his message sombre
He never did find the salvation he sought
He'd never known a happily ever after