He modified his cry's into a fine tune,
Painted his pain and they shined brighter than the rainbows in the cartoon,
He built a smiley face to mask up his sadness and days of gloom,
He picked up stones aimed at him, stacked them and called it a class room,
Where he learnt to say I'm fine and I'm cool,
Days came when his sky yearned for the stars and the moon,
But darkness were the only dim lights that came true,
Broke all routes leading to him so no one would make a move,
Locked himself in his holy grove,
Where he cries and shouts and turn's them all into lyrics and tunes,
Til he had no words to say and decided to play his life on the strings of a tied rope at noon.
©deryl4
D