Forgotten
Heeeello. 12:13 and I'm still going, you'd think I'm a Duracell bunny. Anyhow this poem is not from any particular POV, well, I suppose mine, 'tis about Erik.
A mother cries out
A son is born
A nurse passes out
A doctor mourns
The child has not died
But he should have in opinion
For this baby which he holds
Looks like a devils minion
His mother with indifference
Begs them to destroy
What would become a prodigy
This innocent little boy
The doctor says he's sorry
But this he cannot do
And with that he is gone
To leave her to the truth
So she goes into the closet
And finds a too big mask
And places it on the naked child
Then finds him clothes and a bath
He grows up into a toddler
And she buys him every toy
But there is something that he yearns for
That would bring him even more joy
He wishes to lay
A kiss upon a cheek
But she gives him her refusal
Making his spirits go weak
Finally he is a teenager
Writing the music he will play
His only consolation
To his mothers hating ways
One day she stops to listen
Outside his door ajar
Her gasp is not so loud
But her tears are a visible scar
This son which she wanted dead
could play so beautifully
She asks him what it is he plays
And he tells her his own music simply
By twenty he designs buildings
And can make things more simple
He has invented several objects
That show his mothers dimples
But the only thing she smiles for
Is the money she could make
She sells him to a fair
And her heart it does not ache
He was to originally show the audience
Just what he could make things do
But after seeing beneath his mask
The owner becomes bitter and cruel
He tells him to play his violin
And sit inside the cage
And then reveal his face to them
So the boy pops off in rage
This begins his beatings
And his tortures all the day
Until one day his mind is up
He must finally get away
He kills the guard who watches him
And then he flees
He lives for a while in Persia
Making the Daroga his accomplice
When the Shah has clearly finished with him
He no longer needs to stay
He's decided to go to Paris
Where the Opera plans have been delayed
He helps finish them thoroughly
And has them build a place
Across the water below the building
Into the foundation and brace
Finally his home is complete
And his passages he begins
One leading to the mirror of a room
Where his entertainment would sing
Quite some many years later
He hears a brand new voice
Slightly weak yet made for beauty
Calling the Angel of Music to stop the noise
He comes up the path to find her
In tears over her own life
He gently calls to her
Telling her she need not cry
He begins to help her with his own music
And eventually learns her name
His heart begins to beg for her
To take him instead of the fame
And one day when curiosity takes her
She rips his mask from his face
He pops off but then recoils
For she is clearly afraid
Later the Vicomte comes into the picture
And his mind begins to plot
So he murders again
And again makes the rot
He eventually confronts her
And his reason she steals with a kiss
He foolishly tells her to leave him
And go live a life of bliss
There is not a day he doesn't think of her
His Angel of Music
His little Pandora
His love forever
And his first happy moment.
