This story is told by a very small child.
Different from the rest, and very much wild.
Its plain to see that nobody knows
Of the succesful life this young one chose.
This kid has seen passion
This kid has seen pain.
Although, they think it sheltered
They know not what its seen.
The mind inside had truly died
Once upon a horrid time.
Heavy black smoke
Coating the child
Water doing its best
Cleansing the child.
Who would have known
The child broke free
Free of something
That you will never see.
Misjudgement will reap upon its soul
Until one day
A quill will decorate the scroll.
