He walked around the crowded streets, streets filled with party goers and drunken teens
He didn’t know where he was going, his mind housed those gruesome images
Replaying in his head over and over again
It was a Friday night, although it really didn’t matter because he never had plans regardless of the day
He had bigger things that he had to mentally face
A psychological sciamachy if you will– an imaginary enemy that he wanted….no needed to ****.
It left his mind all dark and dreary, filled his heart with raging fury
And he couldn’t understand why or how he got like that.
In school he was the definition of a social outcast, not fit to be amongst the cherished few
but if only they knew because the biggest outcast in the school
Was also the strongest, for if they were to even attempt to take on his struggles
I doubt any of them would still be alive to tell their story
But back to that night out on the streets, the night he was stuck walking aimlessly
He ended up on top a roof..staring up at the clear black sky admiring its site, not one star visible because of the bright city lights
He didn’t care, he was caught in some trance
Even with his glossed eyes you wouldn’t really know the state he was currently in at first glance
Cold and disheveled he had nothing else left, he was alone even with the dozens of people next to, behind and ahead of him
Stepped on the edge of the building and whispered “Its already broken”
The ones who were once strong sometimes fall

And he was one of them.