Manufactured Bubbles

There once was a little boy
Of dark hair and darker eyes
Who looked so sweet and innocent
But told the darkest lies.
He'd sit alone and plan
His next manipulative word
And the darkness of his bitter soul
Was what the people heard.
He'd lock himself in his room for days
And read his risque tales of daring,
He'd think of how he could change his life,
And then he'd remember how he hated caring.
He'd cut himself and watch the blood
Darker than the moon of the Beltane right.
He'd light his candles and say his prayers
To the Mistress of the Night.
Society abandoned him.
They cast him to the unbelonging lust
Of despair, depression, unwanted fears.
That's why he no longer walks among us.

Then there was a sweet young lady
Of fair skin and gentle ways.
She'd sit alone without a friend
And stay silent for days upon endless days.
She'd sit beneath her willow tree
And let the tears pour from her aching soul.
For while her body seemed so very normal
Her spirit was nothing but a gaping hole.
She'd plod along so gloomily
With nothing to brighten her forever dismal day.
Her brothers would slam her into walls
Her parents told her she was in the way.
She'd refuse to speak to anyone.
You all said she just wasn't right.
You thought someone should lock her away
Far away, far out of sight.
Everyone chose to judge
Before you knew more than the little you did.
Your meanness, bitterness, cruelness showed
While any trace of kindness hid.
That's why she's gone now.
You pushed her to the point of no return.
Even now the Father says
Hell is where her soul shall burn.

On a whole, society hates to hear
Bitter, piercing, ear-splitting screams.
Instead they like to be locked away
In their plastic, manufactured world of dreams.
Well open your eyes and open your minds!
I've got some news for you!
This is life we're living, and losing,
But you know there's something you can do.
Look past the frightening, morbid
Oh so morbid horrors you see
And before you even dare to judge
Reach out, befriend me.
Or you could choose to stay in your bubbles
Artificial life while the real one passes you by.
But if you do so, if you turn away from the world
All the children, yes all the children
All the children will surely die.