His existence was unintended,

Brought to be by raging hormones and rotten nuptials,

And that is the life he lived.

A childhood spent in prison because of a father’s fragmented psyche,

Years of numbing screens flashing before his eyes as his parents spoke,

And that is the life he lived.

Life moved on,

As everyone thrived he slowly drowned before blind eyes,

And that is the life he lived.

His wrists fell in love with razors,

Pills an only friend in the sea of aliens outside looking in but not really seeing,

And that is the life he lived.

His world ebbing from the cliff of sanity it clutched as vein would to muscle,

A freak show carny not worthy of thought,

And then he was gone.

The boy no one tended; alive, but not well,

Evaluation; Depression, anxiety, a slew of antidepressants,

And that is the life he lived.

And that is the life that slain him.