Disclaimer:
Tom M. Riddle belongs to J.K. Rowling. The song 'Seven Years' is property of Norah Jones and co.A Lack Of Happy Endings
Seven Years
A desolate looking child is standing by his lonesome in the middle of a bustling courtyard; a playground filled to the brim with the laughter of children. A melodic merriment which excluded the boy, shunned him, isolating him to the harsh wind. Children can be so cruel – sneers, dirty glances and words of mockery expressed an intolerance for the one who was different. The lonely boy watched the commotion with envy. Wanting to take part in the music, he decided to craft his own tune.
Spinning, laughing, dancing to
his favourite song
A little boy with nothing wrong
Is all alone
One's imagination is a wonderful thing. As he danced, he dreamt of friends, acceptance - love - surrounding him with a warmth that can only be matched by the sun's golden glow. It was years of solitude that made him wish for the spiritual side of life, years of being isolated, having no one to talk to, and no one to understand. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember the sensation of being held by his mother, in a little cocoon of love, being uttered endless endearments to, and being branded – a whispered name…
Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And he'll sing his song to anyone
that comes along
He wished for one day, one day when someone will care. The ignorant could never understand the brilliant, as so entrenched by the memories of history. He was shunned by the mass of children that stood off to the side, pointing and laughing against the support of society. He closed his eyes once more, trying to block out the image of their sneering faces. It seemed even nature was against him, as the wind cruelly carried the sound of children's mocking laughter.
Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound
He'll show them one day; become so powerful that they'll beg at his feet. He'll have friends, money, power, and he will finally have his sweet revenge. For a moment his thoughts turned dark, and he pondered of painful deaths, merciless torturing, and the sweet sound of futile pleading. Smiling at the symbolistic meaning of blood, he wondered if his would be bitter, reflecting the acrid life he has lead, or perhaps salty – a mixture of red dye and dissolved tears. Biting down on his lip until the pain was enough to satisfy, he drank of a delicious mixture of life, loneliness and revenge. It tasted coppery and tangy.
Crooked little smile on his face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all his own
It's these thoughts that kept him contained, peaceful, pacified. He will, one day, have a story all of his own; he will be the special one, the one they all remember. He nodded, as if satisfied with his thoughts; lifted his face up to the sky, and begun to dance once more. As the children edged away slowly, perhaps afraid of the maniacal expression upon his face, or perhaps wary of the blood dripping down his bitten lip; he smiled. A crooked little smile, full of promises of the things to come.
Spinning, laughing, dancing to his favourite song
A little boy with nothing wrong
And he's all alone
Nothing could ever be more pleasurable than simplicity; the boy delighted in spinning around carelessly to his favourite tune. A harmony of abstract expressionism, created by his own mind, weaving his most melodic thoughts together. Still an innocent boy, he didn't understand the implications of his thoughts, he only wished for the clouds to part, and the sun to shine through once more. His name was to be uttered throughout history, echoing of the darkest nightmare.
His name was
Tom Marvolo Riddle.Feedback would be greatly appreciated!