The Killer

The Killer rose swiftly upon the night,

Out of mind, out of sight,

A knife, a dagger, a life,

The Killer dragged the innocent,

into the night of forgotten,

The Killer was a little boy,

Who once was filled with joy,

People would underestimate him,

The boy, poor and angry,

His life a train,

A living pain,

At night he wouldn't sleep.

He murdered people who doubted him,

One by one,

Cutting their souls.

Poor boy, wrongly guided,

Boy couldn't stand playing with a child's toy,

He needed a knife, to take someone's life.

But then, a small soul held him tightly.

His mother, a ghost.

Hot tears burned the boys eyes.

The night, full of lies.

His mother whispered something only the boy could hear,

then kissed his cheek.

He nodded slowly, playing a game of life.

Playing a game of misunderstanding.

His mother took the boys hand,

both climbing the stairs over the moon.