​The black sheep

The child who lives in squalor, his patient face

able to find anger- his voice timid by nature

he begins his trail of self destruction

Let him find his path, lost in the dismay

of the world- he finds the pleasure of pain

Through the acts of his pain, swayed by the modest strain

Let him pick the noble, most assiduous, person who found their joy

squandered by noblest efforts

This lonely child, with his arms outstretch

and his eyes glowed with spite, his anger burns

now he sees the dark world for what it is, an painful realization

sitting in the dark void; life seamlessly suspended

he finally finds himself lost in that desolate existence,

swimming in nihilistic thoughts

troubling his own conscious with doubts- his pain is no longer meaningful

Let him finally see peace, as the red gush fell from hand

his arm drizzle with lifeless pain, his misery subsided

The sweet darkness he embrace, sweeps him away like a ferry in river of styx