My Story

A Little Twisted Boy…….
Becomes a Twisted Adoloscent..
That is my story….
Thus Far….
Its plot can be long…
Its Clamax can be thrilling..
The Storyline’s Progression itself, Exquisite…
The many Characters, stellar..
Their Development , nothing short of mastery……
But the ending was known from the start…
As is the ending to every Man’s Story…

But Alas…
In Storyteller’s etiquette…
I start from my beginning…

A Little Boy twisted by the seeds of Wrath
Seeds sown by Tyrannous Matriarch
Lived on ..
Piling Burden upon Burden….
Hurt upon Hurt…
Pain upon Pain
And soon the Pile outweighed his Heart…
or better yet..
In that Pile.. his Heart was lost.

The Little Twisted Boy..
Realising he lost himself..
Sets out on his secret inward search..
Under the guise of Laughter, he Cried….
Pretending to Smile..
He was Empty
Yet..
Emptiness was heavier than he had bargained..
And as he walked… Lived on..
Emptiness was a load he proved too weak to carry.

The Twisted Little Boy was soon, almost no longer a Boy..
And so the stronger heart beat once.
Quickening its beat to the foots steps ..
But not his own.. no..
The First HER…

The Twisted (Almost) Adoloscent Thus proceded in his action
Thrilled to once again Feel..
So .. he poured his All into HER..
Even though in truth it equated to Nothing..
And she took His Nothing… His All…
And went HER own way..
Alone…. even though he was willing to accompany.

Upon finally becoming the Twisted Adoloscent
His Heart’s Beat proved to be more troublesome..
No longer Beating to one HERs presence..
But to a myriad..
Starting with One.. then One-Two.. then One-Two-Three..then…
The count continued..
The Twisted Adoloscent confused and Speachless..
But Still Bobbing his head to the Drumming of his Heart.
A Lucky Man he deemed himself..
Surrounded by Beauty and Music.

And Friends….
The Lonely Twisted Little Boy was no longer found..
Even with the Burdens and Emptiness..
The Adolescent learnt how to laugh genuinely..
His Smiles became more real..
But Still… His Eyes Laughed not..
As he Dreaded his departure, Everyday back into his Box
The Box he had so grown to hate..
His Loneliness returned..
Once Again..
He would be the Twisted Little Boy.. knowing not true Laughter

Until He Once Again Escaped..
To his Outside..
With his Laughter..
His Beauties.. and their Accompaniment, the Music..
His Life..
He would Stay…
In the Box..
With his Loneliness.. Burden..
Emptiness.. Pain..
Torment…
And Die
………

But Alas..
The Story has not Ended..
At least not yet….

July 26, 2011