When I was a young boy, I was forced to grow up fast. Now my only source of joy, are the dark stories of my past. When she stepped into my space, she had her hopes and dreams. Then I put her in her place, to hear her cries and screams. From my happiness I flee, so my gloom I can maintain. My poetry pours out of me, when I'm in pursuit of my pain. I toppled her little cart, 'cause she wasn't following my line. I crushed her brittle heart, 'cause she wasn't willing to break mine. I put my words together, so my brightness I can reveal. But I can't go any further, my darkness I must conceal.