Creepypasta Poetry

Toby

He loves his family
Till it all fell apart,
He could feel no pain
Except a broken heart,

He would tick and twitch
Kids put him down,
But who needs them
With the voices around,

But the doctors they wished
the voices to stop,
This put poor little Toby
Over the top,

He murdered his father
In attempt to help his dear mum,
Then he burned it all to the ground
And fled from his home,

The man with no face
Took poor Toby in,
He became a proxy
And one to reckon with,

With hatchets in hand
He slaughtered all in his path,
And not once did he remain
To see the after math.