The Darker Thoughts of me, Not sorry.

A Man Made for Manmade Time

Walking aimlessly down an empty hallway I can hear singing. A song about a boy with blue eyes, that all would stop just to see and just to be close too. As I walk by, those aqua eyes changed from blue, to a sea of green envy.
listening to the battering of a mother's last hopes for having a happily family, those eyes cracked to reveal the brown that was flooding to the surface. Brown that was full of the shit his father gave to him. With her face staring back, steaming red. I turned away to face the hallway to burry my head.
Then the father was at the front door screaming now, demanding she let him in, until he finally left, leaving her and her hands to sob in. then a soft voice broke the sound of the mothers weeping.
Off to the land of sweet voices, and not quite ripe grapes. Something was off there, those little brown eyes never could see past the drapes.
The curtains faded from white, to the red that relined the walls. A new man came in and danced with the mom in the halls.
Moved the family across town and doubled the mouths to be fed.
The boy grew older, just hate the skin he was living in, the boys at school would make it unbearable to sit to the end, and his father fought to have him, just to lock him behind his bed.
The skin he lived in became splotchy and full of scars, he began to fear living, and dug inside himself to try to hide within. He cuts so wide he could finally feel warm again.
Feeling the red blanket around him, brown lightening to grey, before his mother came in.
His body begging for men, when his morals just wanted himself to end.
Dying is better, than succumbing to sin.
His mother pulled him back, begging for his life not to end. Praying to the same lord that broke their likeliness for him.
The same lord that took his love from him.
The same lord that made the same person that everyone saw, into an enemy inside the mirror.
The same lord that made his the eyes of brown that stare back at him full of terror.
As his never ending battle finally began to slow, his new father picked them up, and moved all of them south.
The boy did not fit in, the boys there wanted nothing to do with the fag that they had just stumbled upon. The mother thought his friends up north were the enemies, but the people he drew close, did nothing but abuse and push him.
His grades were suffering, and teachers would just mock and laugh at him.
His spirits low, his mind high, he gave up once again.
Pushed all that mattered away, his family meant nothing. To his people, he did not care, but who cared about him?
Why was there so much love floating around him, while hate was the only thing hailing into his shell?
So the boy ran.
Farther than his mother could find.
Nowhere to be found.
Lost and tired, he took comfort in a predators bed.
Waking up he realized he was trapped. The man gone, but he was strapped to his bed.
As screams fled his mouth, he was gagged with the mans semen.
As he struggles to fight himself free, he was punched in between his..
Lips, sweat from his chest, using his cock to fall to his mouth.
His hair used as a handle to provide decent pace.

Then kicked to the curb, just to remember his place.

The boy was no longer a kid, but he couldn't consider himself a man.
So he hid.
He dared not to tell a soul about why he hadent showered for days.
Or why he stunk, or why he decided to hate gays.

He decided that dying was to good for him.
Love was to precious for him.
Being taken advantage was to easy for him.
So he hid.

He created another hole, deep inside of himself, he crawled in never to see the light of day again. Those same red drapes, faded to black and only the blue left in his eyes to glow.

The blue was a low gloom, deep and hardly abundant. Sadness and darkness surrounded the boy till it created a hard shell. A new soul took his place, and he will never crawl back to see the outside.

I tell the story as the soul who looks in.
I see that scared little boy within the scars across this body.

I feel the little boy pinching them shut from the inside,
I hear him wince when the light shifts just a little too fast in front of his brown eyes.
I feel the shiver down his spine every time he feels a warm breath on the back of his neck.
I can feel his body pulling away when someone so desperately begs to become close enough to touch.
I can feel his weight in this world becoming less every day, his grip tethering himself to the earth becoming looser every second. His strength falling short from keeping him still.
His will to rise with the angels into the clouds, to give up his flesh that has fought so hard to keep him alive.

his time moves to slow to hold him back.
His time is man made.
Made to come to an end, unlike the unworldly clock that his been ticking since beginning.

The clock hands are coming to a still, and his grip on his flesh is starting to let go.

It's time to let that baby boy with blue eyes go.

As the rope snaps, remember to let him go.

That's all this little boy could wish for,
Is to feel nothing,
No hate from his peers, no dislike from his family,

no discomfort from thinking of what the lord might think of him.

Just nothing , so just let him go.
Into nothing.