He was small
He was vulnerable
Accident prone
Is what they said at school
Always cut and always bruised
Always a reason
That sounded good
But in the darkness
Of his room
One bad day
And pretty soon
He would feel the pain
Of an angry fist
Or maybe a brutal kick
He knew his mum loved him so
But she was treated the same and so
Was unable to help or herself
These are the cruelest cards that life have dealt
It seemed so sad
That they were beyond help
His abuser was well adept
At telling lies
And had charismatic way
To get others to believe
Anything he would say
Until one night
When he lost the plot
Burnt down the house
And all the doors he locked
With all inside
He heard their screams
And cries as they died
Then took his own life
At the end of a rope
Did this poor little boy
Have any real hope at all
The saddest story of a boy
Who never asked to be born
And knew no happiness
Through his entire short life
So tragic what can we do but cry.
fauxcroft 
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