4AM
I walked around my good intentions
And found that there were none
I blame my father for the wasted years
We hardly talked
I never thought I would forget this hate
Then a phone call made me realize
I'm wrong
You all know me, Draco Malfoy. And you all know my father Lucious, too. Well, knew, anyway. He died a few days ago. Can't say that I'm surprised.Voldemort was gaining power yet again, and Father simply HAD to go to his aid. He wanted me to come too. He said I'd make a great Deatheater. God, how I wanted to. It would have made Dad so proud of me, and that was what I wanted more than anything. We'd never really been close, my Dad and I. We tolerated each other, sure. We were seen in public together. That was the extent of our bond though. I had always hated that about him.he never seemed to care about me at all, except for when he talked about my future as a Deatheater. That was what made me want to be one-my Father. He only seemed to really listen, or care, whenever we talked about the Deatheaters. He never really card about what I thought or felt about anything else. It was hard growing up in his house, with him only being my father when it suited him. It was a few nights ago that I stood up to him, telling him that I wanted him to care about me, Draco Malfoy, not Draco Malfoy the Future Deatheater. We got into a hideous row over it, ending with him stomping off to meet his precious Deatheater friends, and leaving me at home. It was that night, though, that he was caught. The Ministry of Magic was growing ever more cautious about Deatheaters-Father and I had an interesting (well, to him anyway) conversation about outsmarting the Ministry a few days earlier. Regardless though, the Ministry caught the whole group before the reached Voldemort. Apparently, they'd gotten drunk, and were having fun with the Dark Mark. My father killed himself rather than be caught. He preformed the Avada Kedavra curse on himself, just before he would have been nabbed.
If I don't make it known that
I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We're all dumb and jaded
And I hope to god I figure out
What's wrong
Since my Father killed himself, I've been thinking a lot about death. It feels so final, so empty. I feel very insignificant when I think about all that stuff.I feel like I have no purpose. Covering it up with sarcasm is how I cope with it all. Nights are difficult to face now. It's then that all the fears surface. Days, however, have become increasingly more precious. I've been spending time with my mother-she's finding it hard to cope without Dad. My Mom and I were never very close either, but with Dad's death, we've had to pull together. She's really and amazing person, my Mom. I respect her deeply for everything she's been doing, as well as putting up with my Dad. But still, something feels wrong with me. I can't place it, it's just there, eating away at me from the inside. The sooner I figure out what it is, though, the sooner I can deal with it. I just want it to go away.
I walked around my room
Not thinking
Just sinking in this box
I blame myself for being too much
like somebody else
I never thought I would just
Bend this way Then a phone call made me realize I'm wrong
So I'm sitting in my room right now, doing nothing. Just lying on my bed, and staring at the ceiling. I've been thinking about my Father's death again. I think it may have been my fault. That huge fight that we had must have gotten him so upset. That must have made him want to go drink..if he hadn't have gone drinking, the group wouldn't have been going around, shooting the dark mark everywhere they went. Then, they wouldn't have gotten caught, and my Father wouldn't have killed himself. That's what it is then.what's been eating at me. My Father's death was my fault. This overwhelming feeling of sadness is passing over me right now, because I know it now. I killed my father.it was my fault. Who would have guessed..the Great Lucious Malfoy, killed by his son. I killed him. It was my fault.
I walked around my good intentions
And found that there were none
I blame my father for the wasted years
We hardly talked
I never thought I would forget this hate
Then a phone call made me realize
I'm wrong
You all know me, Draco Malfoy. And you all know my father Lucious, too. Well, knew, anyway. He died a few days ago. Can't say that I'm surprised.Voldemort was gaining power yet again, and Father simply HAD to go to his aid. He wanted me to come too. He said I'd make a great Deatheater. God, how I wanted to. It would have made Dad so proud of me, and that was what I wanted more than anything. We'd never really been close, my Dad and I. We tolerated each other, sure. We were seen in public together. That was the extent of our bond though. I had always hated that about him.he never seemed to care about me at all, except for when he talked about my future as a Deatheater. That was what made me want to be one-my Father. He only seemed to really listen, or care, whenever we talked about the Deatheaters. He never really card about what I thought or felt about anything else. It was hard growing up in his house, with him only being my father when it suited him. It was a few nights ago that I stood up to him, telling him that I wanted him to care about me, Draco Malfoy, not Draco Malfoy the Future Deatheater. We got into a hideous row over it, ending with him stomping off to meet his precious Deatheater friends, and leaving me at home. It was that night, though, that he was caught. The Ministry of Magic was growing ever more cautious about Deatheaters-Father and I had an interesting (well, to him anyway) conversation about outsmarting the Ministry a few days earlier. Regardless though, the Ministry caught the whole group before the reached Voldemort. Apparently, they'd gotten drunk, and were having fun with the Dark Mark. My father killed himself rather than be caught. He preformed the Avada Kedavra curse on himself, just before he would have been nabbed.
If I don't make it known that
I've loved you all along
Just like sunny days that
We ignore because
We're all dumb and jaded
And I hope to god I figure out
What's wrong
Since my Father killed himself, I've been thinking a lot about death. It feels so final, so empty. I feel very insignificant when I think about all that stuff.I feel like I have no purpose. Covering it up with sarcasm is how I cope with it all. Nights are difficult to face now. It's then that all the fears surface. Days, however, have become increasingly more precious. I've been spending time with my mother-she's finding it hard to cope without Dad. My Mom and I were never very close either, but with Dad's death, we've had to pull together. She's really and amazing person, my Mom. I respect her deeply for everything she's been doing, as well as putting up with my Dad. But still, something feels wrong with me. I can't place it, it's just there, eating away at me from the inside. The sooner I figure out what it is, though, the sooner I can deal with it. I just want it to go away.
I walked around my room
Not thinking
Just sinking in this box
I blame myself for being too much
like somebody else
I never thought I would just
Bend this way Then a phone call made me realize I'm wrong
So I'm sitting in my room right now, doing nothing. Just lying on my bed, and staring at the ceiling. I've been thinking about my Father's death again. I think it may have been my fault. That huge fight that we had must have gotten him so upset. That must have made him want to go drink..if he hadn't have gone drinking, the group wouldn't have been going around, shooting the dark mark everywhere they went. Then, they wouldn't have gotten caught, and my Father wouldn't have killed himself. That's what it is then.what's been eating at me. My Father's death was my fault. This overwhelming feeling of sadness is passing over me right now, because I know it now. I killed my father.it was my fault. Who would have guessed..the Great Lucious Malfoy, killed by his son. I killed him. It was my fault.