His momma never cared.
His daddy left him broken.
But what hurt the most,
were the words of affection left unspoken.
He withstood any curse, kick, or blow from the cane
without any sign of pain.
He knew it was simply easier that way, so he just let every blow come.
Harder.
Harder.
For he had failed to make his father prouder.
The pain just grew and grew, until poor little Draco's heart just split in two.
Silver and ice took over. Spikes, around his heart, formed a cage.
He had no feeling, unless it was rage.
Draco had decided no love or emotion was better in a way.
For anything that made him smile, always later caused him pain.
He never hoped, wished, or dreamed.
They were all such hollow things.
He created a mask.
So beautifully sculpted.
So tragically perfect.
The mask never broke, cracked, or slipped.
The mask vaporized all tears,
pretended to have no fears.
It never betrayed the secret storm.
The icy solitude that claimed his soul.
With a joke here, a laugh there,
everyone would think everything's alright, everything's okay.
Like an unbreakable statue he stood through the snow and the rain.
Cold to the very bane.
Even with a smirk etched into his face, never looking forlorn.
Always, our little Draco,
Oh, how he wished he was never born.