When he narrows his eyes and scowls at you,
Take another look.
Perhaps it is not a look of hate,
It is a look of fear.
Fear to let anyone in, for one can be easily betrayed.
Fear of dragging an innocent bystander,
Into his seperate world.
A world where one gets beaten,
Where light and dark are one in the same,
Where hate is everywhere, and love is an unknown feeling.
And everyday he stalks the halls, scaring people away.
But really it’s a cry for help.
It’s a twisted cry that can only be heard,
By one who has lived in his world
And lived to tell the tale.