Beaten into submission, he gave his volition.
The tiny dancer ceased his struggle and made peace with his station.
How they cheered and clapped at the strong boy he conjured
Not a tear in his eye
Not a grimace on his face
Not an emotion in sight
Not so much as a whimper emanating from his lips
He stood motionless, stoic, and tall
He took pride in becoming a man for them all
Oh, but how he betrayed them in his isolation
There he cried and begged and pleaded
As his dreams and hopes slowly receeded
There he mourned the death of his true self
There he wept for the suffocating boy and the hand he was dealt
The little boy died slowly with each passing night
He gave it his all, He fought with all of his might
His tears snuffed out as the inner flame he once embraced
As he coaxed himself to be tough, valiant, and brave
All the while becoming repressed, depressed, and enraged
Alcoholic, drug addicted, battered, and depraved
Oh, and did I mention his rage?
Inflamed in his anger
As patterns emerged
As his ego surged
As the little boy remained submerged