A horn blows loud and strong,

In a lonely room.

Like a siren in the night,

Calling out your doom.

As in rows,

The notes flow,

Almost as if painted.

Such a talented musician,

From others bring up hatred.

Jealousy snatched their souls,

And sent them into rage,

But still that little horn

Puts smiles on others faces.

One day the jealous decided,

To blow out all their hatred,

And onto the small musicians home

To crush his soul

To brake his bone,

And send him away crying.

They went and stole away the boy

And came up with a torture.

After quite a beating,

The boy let out a sigh

Because of his pure boredom

No where near a cry.

The men where quite depressed

And set again to find a way

To ruin the poor boys day

And finally they decided

To take his horn away,

They would burn it, melt it,

And jab it with a stick.

But still the boy didn't cry,

Until a noise arose so high

It squawked and rung

Hummed and jang,

Until the boy snapped

He cried long

He cried hard

Until his face was stiff