The boy is shrouded in the darkness of the night,
The only light is the dim, musty street.
He slowly creeps along the street, searching,
Deep inside the boys disturbed, psychotic mind,
He knows this is wrong.
But every time, the thoughts are driven out by pure,
He wonders sometimes what has caused such bloodlust.
Was it the fire that torched his skin?
Was it the bleach that gave him his white, leathery skin?
He never is sure.
The boy glances down to the item in his hand,
His weapon of choice.
He notices a distorted, horrifying figure staring at him.
Who is this man?
Its eyes are burned and scarred, its skin completely white,
A large scar runs from each corner of his mouth,
It takes a boy a moment before he realizes,
This is he.
Every time the boy glances at the knife,
He hopes that the young, innocent child will come back to him.
He hopes that somewhere deep inside him,
The boy is trapped, trying to escape his psychotic prison.
He knows this day will never come.
Through the inky dark, the boy hears a lone voice.
A single tear runs down his leathery, white face.
“Please god, forgive me.”
Credit To – PTK