Foredoomed infant

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Rows of astonishing beasts
Recollecting the souls they had torn
Healing the souls they had stole
Swallowing the pity they bestowed
Reincarnation of their hatred
For the witch that miscalculated her spells
Witchcraft is not to be trusted
Now without a doubt
Indeed they have been warned
Never to lose sight of the only scar
Wounding the infant
Infant never knowing the mysteries of this world
That attach itself with every atom touched
And with every iris burn
And with every jealous clouds
Breaking down their tones of river
Upon the lad's chest
Upon the blood of the beast
Rising the lad's hands facing the sky
Praying for the beast to survive.

The prologue of the story unknown
Weeping in the grave of mystical truth
'who may be the father?
This beast is not my father,
Nay the beast is not my father'
Searching for the blood of his childhood life
Discovering the lies the witch told
Unleashing the monster, the witch had sealed
Unveiling the pictures of wild mating
Between the witch and the beast
The infant's hands coiled
Piercing through his bones
Disgusted with his form
Slamming his skull
Upon the witch's walls
Built to protect her own fears
Of him twisting to become the beast
Fearing the lad would attack her throat
With loneliness and leaving his home
Just like the beast
When he heard the infant cursed upon her womb
Awaiting the dawn's night
The beast disappeared with cowardice suitcase
Upon his misfortune pity
Pity filled with fearful rejection
And slithering responsibilities
And leaving him with empty pockets.

'why didn't you tell me mother?
Why did you not inform me of who my father was?!
Why did you lie to me?!
I thought I trusted you
But you also lied to me
Everyone in my life
Are nothing but snakes who lie
Liars of fire
Liars of hate
Liars of disgust
Disgust in the blood of the beast...
Now I understand
Now I will leave
Goodbye mother
Stay as you are
Stirring your magic tricks
Upon those who would be tricked
Who would fall upon your feet
Farewell and good day!'

Tears floating in his eyes
Blood running down his dreams
The infant's castle ambushed
Invaded by the witch's curse
Found out the treason
She held upon his throat
Now the lad understood
The disgust she had for the form
Of his nature
For the form of his eyes
Those bloodshot eyes
That were buried in the beast's grave
Awoke in his eyes,

'she wept as I left
She crackled as I turned
She chocked as I ran
She cursed more to my wound as I closed
She twisted mad as I built the walls
She swallowed her death as I forgot
She wept as I buried her alone in her grave.
Her witchcraft tricked the beast indeed
But her witchcraft was my curse
I was her curse from the beast
Of her virtue.
Don't want to know
How he had...'

Screamed greater than the horns of death
Pitied his mother
Than clouds that rained upon his chest
Pitied his mother
Than the past he held within prisons of chains
Bleeding through the memory lane
Pitied his mother
Than the beast who never knew the right thing to do
Was to never open the lock within her soul
Loved his mother
Loved the witch who told lies
Because she was the only one left
Desired the beast's presence
As his father was never known to his eyes
But everyone warned him about the similarities
And the mother's soon death.

The infant coiled up
In his mother's womb
And wept again.

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