I may not be abused or torn, not traumatized or accidentally born. My father just told me don't get in trouble. Little did he know my morals were rubble. It all broke down at the heavens fall. In those time I pretended to stand up tall. A boy with a mask standing his ground in a storm only he could see. All those tales and stories had broke him down in much secrecy. This mask he wore held tight on his face. A cold and sad and foul embrace. Nobody cared to listen for his voice was masked behind silent screams. No one heard his cries of pain in his dreams. The boy who wore the Crack Ed Mask.
