Another long one. I couldn't even bring myself to split this one up. I feel very deep and full of pity right now. I should really stop doing this. Writing Harry Potter stories is not supposed to evoke strong tear-worthy emotions. That's what my short stories about people dying are for. I'm actually more fond of this one than the other ones. I think I'm even more fond of this one than of the one for Draco. First, I thought I couldn't top the sorting hat. Then I thought I couldn't top Draco. And now I write this? Either I'm extremely indecisive or I'm getting better...I hope I'm getting better, that's my goal in life. To get better. Anyway, here is a heart-wrenching poem for (collective gasp) Voldemore himself.
To a Young Boy Named Tom Riddle
Sometimes I think
I would like to knock on your head
To call into your ear
And wait for a response
Because I know
Somewhere inside this Dark Lord
There is a little boy named Tom
And he wants out
He is the part of you
That fears death
He is the part of you
That twinges each time you kill
I know that somewhere inside you
Behind your serpentine eyes
There lies a child afraid of the dark
A boy who wants his mother
And a place to call home
The evil in you hates him
Yet he is who you were
And who you still are
You are still afraid of death, Tom
And you fly from your own
Just to cause others
You twinge when you kill, Tom
Because a little bit of you
Is beginning to die with them
You are still frightened of the dark, Tom
So you live in it always
And never know light
You still want your mother, Tom
And you will have her soon
When you give into your fear
Enter the darkness
And find your home in death
Where you can be Tom again