The Terrible, Horrifying, One-Eyed Boy

There once was a boy and his name was Damien.

He was the best boy there ever could be.

But one day he decided that being an angel wasn't fun anymore

So he pulled his bright blue eye out with a fork

Ate it with a spork

Killed his mother for pure enjoyment

He was the terrible, horrifying, one-eyed boy

He was sent to an asylum, but that didn't stop him

He escaped with ease and ran away

But oh my friend, this story becomes even more grim

For blood and tears flooded his eyes without delay

Soon he was found

Beat to death and died in the pouring rain

Overflowing with unbearable pain

The terrible, disgusting, one-eyed boy

He's still around, don't go out after midnight

Especially on October second

Because the rumors say, oh rumor has it

That if he catches you

He shall pull out your eye

Beat you 'till you die

And leave you to decay

But they say if your blue-eyed

He'll eat it instead

The terrible, horrifying, one-eyed boy

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My name is Damien.

For all my life, I would be the best boy I could be, because when I was a good boy, people were happy. I would get rewarded, and people would shower me with love.

My Mama loved me, she gave me cookies of all different kinds when I was good, so I would give it my all to be on my best behaviour all the time, so she would give me lots of delicious cookies. My Papa loved me, too. He'd go to the city once every month, so before he set off, he would ask me what I wanted and he'd give me a gift when he got home the following week. He told me that if I was a mean boy, he wouldn't get me anything, so I was always good so I could get lots of presents.

My teachers loved me. I stayed kind to them and my classmates in elementary school, and I always paid attention in class unlike other children and I would get good grades. Most of my teachers would reward me with candy. My classmates looked up to me. They'd come up to me and exclaim that they were so jealous of me. Of my grades, of my rich family, of my looks, and children came running to me for advice. I was friends with everyone.

I couldn't think of any logical reason to be mean to anyone because then people would hate me, so I never acted like that. Because I was so good all the time, I was experienced in keeping calm even in not-so-great situations.

But also because of this, I gave in too easily.

In fourth grade, there was a new girl, and her name was Adriana. No one liked her for some reason. She was bullied by other kids and I didn't understand why.

I thought that she was beautiful. She had shoulder-length brown hair that shined and felt silky to the touch. Her eyes were a pretty hazel with specks of gold noticeable in the sunlight, and I thought they were so gorgeous, and I was jealous.