Poem- Harry Potter- Draco POV- Est. Any Year (probably while he's still at Hogwarts)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter  wish I did.

The Ice of the Malfoys

Since the day I was born,

A "Pureblood",

A Malfoy,

My path has been chosen.

Did I have any say?

Did I have any notion?

No.

None Whatsoever.

There have always been rules for me.

"If they're not like us,"

my father tells me,

"They're wrong."

"If they think differently,

They're scum.

If they have no reputable name,

They're filth."

Or so he says.

I don't know why.

It's just that way.

It has been for as long as I can remember.

I cannot love or show emotion.

"It makes you weak," he says.

I have never known praise,

He gives only reprimands.

I have never known friends,

Not real ones.

I have almost everything desirable

But I am so close to having

Nothing at all.

"Everything you know,

You can use against others."

That's his philosophy.

So it becomes mine as well.

I never give anyone a chance

I push them away

With a cold shoulder.

Talk behind their back

And insult them to their face.

I try to impress him

To make him proud

It is a child's dream.

He just looks at me,

With those icy eyes,

Devoid of feeling,

So much like mine,

Piercing me like daggers,

Always finding fault,

Forever criticizing.

To everyone around,

I am cold, distant, even mean.

I am everything he is.

Almost an exact replica.

It's not me.

Inside,

I am just a lonely boy

Who wants his father's love

I am nearly his clone

Yet all I want is his approval

I want to look up to him

As a true father

That's all I really want,

For him to accept me,

Even just acknowledge me as his son

To tell me that I did well.

It's hopeless wishing, though.

I know it can never be.

He will never love me,

Never hold me when I cry,

Never cheer me on,

Never care one bit.

And neither should I.

Because we are "Purebloods",

We are Malfoys,

And that is the path of a Malfoy.