I was raised in the valley, there were shadows and death. Got out alive but with scars I cant forget. This kid back in school, subdued and shy. An orphan and a brother and unseen by most eyes. I dont know what it was that made a piece of him die, Took a boy to the forest, slaughtered him with a scythe. Stamped on his face, an impression in the dirt. Do you think the silence makes a good man convert? We all have our horrors and our demons to fight. But how can I win, when Im paralyzed? They crawl up on my bed, wrap their fingers around my throat. Is this what I get for the choices that I made?
Posted on: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 01:57:47 +0000
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