Taken from his mother.He had the power to wishbut with a swishhe was stolen by another. Raised in isolation,receiving all he needed,with his life, he proceeded. Then there came a realization. The cook who raised himwas wicked and afraid,for the boy's ignorance, the cook prayed.From his life, he should trim. The cook fell dead as suddenly as the boy's wantHe fled,afraid of the man he left dead.For what he had done, he had no vaunt. Returning home, he found no one.Pink carnations littered the tombof the one who carried him in the womb.He was her lonely son. He did not wish.He did not run.He brought his end with a gun.
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