A Happy Childhood Cut Short

The price paid for being born

A Happy Childhood Cut Short

Riddled with guilt, riddled with bullets

For crimes committed, societal crimes

The fate of the unwashed masses grasped

The Oliver Twisted twist of the sullied poor

The man who never became a man but a boy

The guilt of being born in the first place

Weighs heavier than the bullets in their case

Filth caked on flesh along the desperate mile

All roads lead to one direction for the dirty

Chance favors the objectivity in these matters

Guns open fire on the ridiculous moment

On the snatched body from the womb

Rain comes to wash away the doomed

To cover the mistake of birth in the first place

A mistake, a person of less interest now

Can rest at last below the willow tree

What is left to sort out is the howling wind

All actions have consequences

All lead to an end without a friend

To the haunted grave at castle town

Below a tree that cries for no one

A child without a name but reputation

Alone with soil as his company for sure

Sullied as it is and not much more