The Boy Who Could Write

Have you ever heard the story about the boy who could write He would be thinking up rhymes every day and all night But words would do more to him, not just sting but tear and bite And his depression was so low he would go out without a fight He never told anyone that what they did to him wasn't right When he was asked about his bruises his face would go white He refused to show his sadness his brain seemed airtight He always wanted to say his poems to a crowd but he didn't deserve the light At least that's what he always thought, that was his opinion of insight He used to dream of being a noble knight Now when he thinks of his dreams he silently burns them, no maybe or might Soon he will tell everyone goodnight And never wake up again just to deal with constant fright.