Cold Hearted

This poem is baout a boy, who always dreamed he\'d die.

He\'d sit alone up in his room, his friends they thought he shy.

Though all the years he cried and cried, it never seemed to change.

His room always a mess, everything in disarrange.

His father never talked to him, he always passed him by.

A troubled boy, who always wished, but something made him cry.

His mother was his santity, she never brought him pain.

An angry father, thats who he was, it would always be the same.

All alone up in his room he\'d hear them fuss and fight.

This young boy would never know, his mother not in sight.

The yelling all through the night, was his lulliby.

His friends would ask, he\'d say \"She went away\" this was his lie.

His father always told him, that mommy left his side.

If maybe he went to the beach, he\'d find her by the tide.

The young boy never questioned, he already knew the place.

For the three passed days that seemed to last, his father he could not face.

One day, he can\'t say why, his father came to him.

He lowered himself to his level, it felt alittle grim.

He asked him why he cries, young hearts were filled with terror.

A dark feeling filled the air, as they sat in front of the mirror.

His father began to speak, he asked him of his mother.

His father started his rush, he pulled a knife from his cover.

The young boys brain began to race, as he started to cry.

The mirror swept with red, the young boy was to die.

--END--