The Dear Young Boy

The night was dark 

 

 The shadows darker 

 

 As they danced on the walls 

 

 They sang of a story 

 

 Of a young boy 

 

 And writhed in the pain of it all 

 

 First they whispered 

 

 Of the young boy's mother 

 

 A mistress to any who pays 

 

 They tell of her hair, 

 

 Dark as the night 

 

 And of her face, 

 

 For it was quite the sight 

 

 As the room grows silent 

 

 They mutter of her doings 

 

 Her drinking and drugs 

 

 And the hitting of her son 

 

 Screaming and screehing 

 

 Throwing things against the wall 

 

 They mimick the woman in all her faults 

 

 Snapping a stick right in two 

 

 Showing, what the mother would do 

 

 The breaking of ribs and pulling of hair 

 

 The burning of flesh and shattering of glass 

 

 That house was a nightmere its self 

 

 And then they told of the men 

 

 The many men the mistress had 

 

 She brought them all to her house 

 

 Then when she was done, 

 

 And they had paid the bill 

 

 Just as a tip, leaving them alone 

 

 That woman would throw her son 

 

 Locking the door, she laughed at the screams 

 

 And ignored the calls from her boy 

 

 Smoking a ciargette, in the back of her yard 

 

 Putting it out, with the butt of her heel 

 

 She went to relese the child 

 

 If the lady wasn't satisfied 

 

 She'd throw the boy out 

 

 Leaving him, trapped in the yard 

 

 With the company of an empty dog house 

 

 Shivering in delight, the shadows took flight 

 

 They climbed upon the walls 

 

 Looking down, they merely said 

 

 The tale has just begun! 

 

 Scar after scar, the boy did endure 

 

 Then they spoke of his father 

 

 The young man who tried to take him back 

 

 He promised to love and to give life 

 

 If only, if only the shadows cackled 

 

 The boy would so somehting for him 

 

 The father mention how he seeked love 

 

 How he wished to have every part of him 

 

 Nodding the boy agreed to his wish 

 

 And the man, threw him to the bed 

 

 But only after thrice an hour had past 

 

 The mother waltzed in, with eyes of a hawk 

 

 And the lady kicked out the father 

 

 In punishment for his satanic deeds 

 

 With boiling water, supposedly holy 

 

 She poured upon the dear boy 

 

 The night withered to day 

 

 And the sun began to rise 

 

 The shadows darted around the room 

 

 Then they began to tell of his demise 

 

 Covered in bruises and gasping for breath 

 

 Losing all will, he left the living 

 

 To find peace within the dead 

 

 The boy was buried as the moon rose overhead 

 

 In the back of the house, where the mother did live 

 

 Still to this day, no one knew, of the dear young boy 

 

 Who was laid to rest, on that darkest of nights

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741