Love is fickle.
Fear is cruel.
Mind over matter
is on what madness fuels.
Simplicity is in greatness.
Greatness is in march
marching on eternally
Eternally hard as starch.

Once there was a boy that died inside.
Brought then alive by a friend.
His murderer
Torturer
Mad Breaker
He was jealous of this new friend.

Therefore
He tortured more.

He killed a dame
he didn't seek fame
Just a friend to love him for who he is.

But he used his host
Tortured his love the most

And in turn the love saved his man.

He brought a silver barrel onto the host's head
And told him he loved him, no matter the torturer's dread.

The shot rang loud in the air.
The love's eyes draining out its sadistic share.

"Do you hate me?" the lost lover asked his savior.
"No, I could never hate you," the savior told his lover.

As the soul left the lover's body
And the savior cried his tears.
The sky looked much more cloudy
and the earth was left with fears.

The last words to be muttered to the poor, dying angel
Still rings in the air.
"Don't worry about it Cry."
At the last stroke of hair.