Dead in the grass

Do not heed the voices

There once was a boy who couldn't cry;
Even as his mommy and daddy died
What had the boy been through you ask,
to leave his mom and dad
dead in the grass

I’ll tell you a story about a troubled boy
Gazing in the darkness
Filled by the cold
Voices in his head
urging him to see,
the demons inside his family

A late summer night
The end of June
A little boy was born,
beautiful and shrewd.
Between feelings of love
and hate he was torn,
but there was urges
he could not elude.

Many were the small ones,
that tasted his rage.
Children they ran.
Lonely; trapped in a cage.

At times he resisted,
fleeing his mind's vocal game.
But the voices was stronger,
violently screaming his name.

Time went on and emptiness grew,
darkness did fill him
through and through
Whispers that were,
are now screams in his mind
No sleep, no rest only blood in his sight

He woke late at night.
Watching the walls; on shadows that moved.
He sat himself upright,
voices calling; with a worsening mood.

They urged him outside:
Through the kitchen,
a knife he did himself provide.
From there out on the porch,
where the threat resides.

The boy took one step forward,
demon turning it's head.
The boy stopped out of fear,
frozen, longing to bed.

The demon grinned and laughed,
stood up from his chair.
Went up to the boy, kneeled,
stroke fingers through his hair.

With his knife and the voices guiding his hand
The boy stabbed at the demons greasy head.
He thrust once more
Making sure it was dead

The other demon cried
Told him to stop,
but the boy leapt forward…

Blood dripping on cloth

The sky is red
Reflecting the ground
As the sun sets to rest,
the boy stares at the mound
of his mommy and daddy,
whom have gone for a while

The voices are silent
Only an echo can be heard;
of the screams of his mother
in the moist summer air †