There was a boy.
He lived alone.
He lived for joy.
Knowing too much.
Knowing the truth.
The boy was murdered.
Betrayed by his dad.
A father full of remorse.
A parent full of guilt.
Never telling anyone.
Not even his wife.
What is she finds out?
Surely she will not.
All the things I have hiding.
Deep down below.
I gave it birth.
I gave it death.
Yet I cannot point the finger.
I will not admit mistake.
Tomorrow is the same.
Living in my footsteps.
Yesterdays mistakes.
Yesteryears joy.
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