Seven years of pain,
Are years of living in a lonely hell,
Made up off his own dreams,
He dances, he sings,
He cries.
Growing up,
His brave soul, provoked by the foul feelings,
He falls,
The feeling immersed through,
The most beautiful feeling,
that will break him, any time .
The suffers,
The growing hatred,
His sacred feelings are no more,
Can be seen nor feel.
The poison that may kill.
An angel,
Of the darkness, falls into his arms,
Convinced his poor soul,
Make him believe in what's not to believe,
To believe in this false faith .
And at day he's the boy who smile,
At night, he's the demon who crave for souls.
YOU ARE READING
The boy who smile.
Poetry"Roses are red, Violets are blue, Smile, cause it looks good on you" I wrote this poem spontaneously.
