The boy rides further to the stream
from the hillside the water seems clean
as he draws near he smells the stench
of hatred and unforgiven pain
he bows his head and takes a sip
but tastes a bitter suffering
that they put her through all those years ago
when she was the wicked spirit
that placed a curse
that till today
we suffer from in every way
it tightens our lungs
and ties our stomach in knots
makes us cry our eyes from their slots
they called her evil
when she did no wrong
for her fear
and for her pain
she was made to suffer the torture
that drove her insane
she tried to stop them
but to no prevail
she just seemed mental
this would unvail
the the secrets of how this day we feel
for the first open depression
seemed so unreal
it was a lie
to those who hid
and these were the ones who left only a message
with the "to those whom did care that much"
and the "this will be my last word, please my lonely death dont touch"
some how the boy can see
if he hides one of those people soon shall he be
with nothing much more than a note
as something left for others to quote
he turns back round and with his knife
he carves deep into a tree
i shall not suffer alone,
alone i shall not be
on his ride home he drops the knife
never again wanting to take his life
