Pain and sadness trickles down the face of the helpless youth.

As they paint their white canvas-like soul of the destruction of the world around them.

Shading in their silhouettes, with violent-violets tears, expresses the physical abuse by others.

The external scars engulf their appearance, setting them in the woodwork.

Although what appears on the outside can be whipped away, what happens on the inside is left fester.

Inside is burned away with acidic cerulean tears, to never be filled.

Leaving doleful valleys and demented alleys.

Eating away the inside, leaving emotional scars never to be seen.

Nobody will ever know what is truly inside.

Evil and hatred swarms within the mind to build a temple of deviance.

As this deviance affects its host, it controls them as if they are robotic.

Emotionless, careless, and supportless only to end in complete and utter destruction.

As the world around them just passes by without recognition.

Set aside as if someone else will one day pick them up to be fixed.

But how can they be fixed if no one knows what is truly inside?