I once wrote something. It was when I was sad, Usually when I write at my most satisfactory state. Anyhow. Anywho. I was going through, Let's call it a 'Phase.' I liked being alone and I was always well... irritated and upset. I can not remember what I wrote word for word however I do remember the story line. Now I've finished babbling...
There was a boy so pale and quite,
His hair was dark, This caused a riot.
He got no joy to talk and babble,
His own little world in growing old bubble.
He of course acted or spoken no different,
To those of whom we're called an infant.
He wanted to leave these horrible place's,
For people who understood how to take things in pace's.
He went stroll around the tree's,
The frosted leave's and the chilly breeze.
This was abnormal,
The signs were informal.
The dark is creeping in,
A common thing...
A tree,
A loner,
A heart's desire.
He woddled towards this tree, Oh gee,
The next thing is inopropriate to see.
A shake, A scream, A cry, A dream,
Now he wasn't alone. But this, this is all to be seen. ♥