static speaks

the black claws of fate had not always held my heart
for i was once a summer child,
filled with hope,
made of sugar, spice, everything nice,
with bright eyes
and scraped knees,
a sense of belonging.

but i am now a man hardened by my own suffering,
my heart tainted and stained
the color of the ink i once created with.
i have given into the demands of a world that does not want me,
a world that i do not want.