Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

This padded wall holds no shelter
For those who dwell in it
Asylums are a waste away
For a day away from silence
is a day closer to madness
This is no reward
For no one can exist here
Entry 637

Have you ever wondered why although you may try
the evil eye inside your mind will reside within the mask of time
Let me tell you of a boy
Lost in his way, the most critical choice today
Whether the choice was good or evil is for you to decide

15 years he walked these halls a high school dark, cold, and tall
For the people who ignored his face made it so
He is the kid only a few will miss
Name, Aben Paul Clurish
Aben sat in a cafeteria alone when along came Tier Varden Hawthone
Friends forever, bonds that show
The others ridiculed him
At church he was considered the epitome of sin
For people had no love to give for the son of Colen Henwarr Clurish
Colen was a rapist, murderer, and a twisted man
His murder and rapist was not to others, but to his own kid
Raped mentally, not physically, and murdered in his soul
He couldn't take anymore of the pain, he was only a day away
Suicide, one child would die, everyone would go on with their lives
No! This wouldn't work.
So he would make the cry, make them suffer, make them die
Snapping out of himself

He was greeted by his nemesis who always gave him torment
“I can't believe you would ever think of asking her out
You're a freak”
Grinning, mocking , walking away strolled his enemy
Aben gritted his teeth
Holding back the hate inside
He could hear someone say inside his mind
“Why won't her leave you alone?”
“who are you?” Aben replied
“I am you, but another side”
“Now kill him, I'll show you how to use a knife”
Walking home once again alone
He saw his nemesis standing
On the sidewalk, on the street
He reached to strangle his foe and mangle him to death
bash his head in with a rock
But he was choking a dog
The dog howled in fright and ran with all his might to escape  Aben
He did not release the dog, beating him without mercy
Maiming his victim, leaving blood on his hands
He walked home satisfied with the death of the dog
Heading straight to his room as soon as he was home
Mom and Dad see the blood and pretend not to notice
if he was hurt it was so he would learn
This is how his parents work
He tried to lure himself to sleep with pills, exercise, and counting crows
But none could grant him his wish
the faces from church, the faces from school
All their voices chanting the bladed words with sharp tongues vile and cruel
Ridiculing, mocking, tormenting him
Laughing, taunting him
He felt suffocated, screaming with no reply
In his mind's eye blood was drowning him
Trapped in a steel box with pin sized holes sinking in a blood ocean
He saw them, saw them all pointing and jeering
He lies crying at every piercing face
Tossing and turning, his mind is now at rest

Waking up in the morning
He found himself in a cold sweat
It was Sunday, the lord's day
But they say satanic in his middle name
They do not realize the torture of mental pain
He sat in the front pew to try to redeem the name to him they gave
But today he brought a guitar string and a blade
So when the pastor began to preach
The boy dropped to his knees

The voices, the faces

He grabbed the sides of his head

The faces, the voices


The pastor ran to Aben and proclaimed
“He is being touched by the holy ghost”


The faces, the voices

Everyone looked and was amazed when
Pastor shouted, “Demon come out of him!”

The voices, the faces

Aben screamed, “So now I'm a Demon!”
“You wanna see demon”
He jumped to his feet
Wrapping around the pastor's neck, a guitar string
The congregation tried to stop him, but to no avail
The boy laughed, “Now who's goin ta hell”
They called the police
Before they arrived Aben killed six families
ON came the court date pending
Judge claimed him insanity

These white cells are not what they seem
Closing my walls allow blood and poison to seep
For I get no rest, no sleep
Let me continue in false weeping

The moral of the story is to you which action all should choose
Should Aben have sought help before he blew his fuse?
Should the people around him have treated him with kindness?
Should we judge others for what their parents have done?
Or what they have done
Are we the ones to say what they have become?