My End

Born alone,
as is the nature of man.
Memories capturing early events,
repete as he attempts to understand.
Times he couldn't control,
he believes are still at hand.
Sitting in his barren room,
the playbook is open for plans.
The lonellyness snuck in,
he figures around eight,
Mother met a new man named Harry,
the source of the hate.
Blaming her has been done,
past rationalizing failed.
It was him he'll say,
as he hammers the nails.