At this moment someone is crying you name;
they beg for an end to this pain.
Screaming truths in relentless vain,
their struggle remains the same.
They struggle to remain sane,
as evil corrupts their brain,
their happiness has been slain.
The world frowns on them in distain,
shackles them in a bloody chain;
stored tears begin to drain,
the skin begins to stain.

A final tear
a giddy smile.
Turn your head,
don't look at the one you called your child.
Just leave him to look at the flame
you remain silent,
but still they give you all the blame.

In silence you feel the most guilt,
All odds you may have been able to tilt,
the change you had the ability to create,
but never did.
When he called you and there was no answer.
I know you were home all along,
but his crying voice was never any competition for happiness.
The happiness created by his suffering;
giving others the life they always desired,
while taking away the life he had always known.

I feel sorry for you,
all of their problems placed on your shoulders.
All problems created and solved by a whim,
but for every problem created another is solved.
Him.
You never thought solving other's problems would do this;
cause him so much harm.
You never thought that silence when he would call,
would end with knocking,
his knocking on your door.