There was one this little boy
Who sat all alone with his toys
With a dead mother
And one gone father
He grew up alone in his dark home
With his PTSD syndrome
And with his overwhelming anxiety
He was never accepted into society
Many thought of him to be the devil
But all I see is an innocent angel
Accused of killing his very own mother
With all these lies he didn't even bother
Years and years has passed
What have I done he asked
Little did he know he was being framed
Just do the culprit couldn't be blamed
Now he sat on his bed
So much thoughts running though his head
Writing his life story which he always dread
Hoping and wishing he could just be dead
Black feathers black wings
Of a lonely death he sings
I, who has had a miserable life
Always sat alone with my sharp knife
Black are my wing
Dark as night
Produce a fake smile
It's not worth the fight
Now sitting at the end of his bed
He held a gun to his head
BANG....
Finally I'm dead
Now that he's gone
The culprit lost one of his perfect pawns
The culprit had finally turned him self in
Surprise to know he was the victims twin
