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Namdam's Chronicle
Born from the hate of the world, he lives for the fear in their eyes.
To twisted to live yet to rare to simply die.
If asked the wrong question he would turn and walk away.
He demonstrated a sort of supernatural immortality.
Beneath his outer layer you could never really see.
The pools of darkness in his eyes revealed no mysteries.
Molded from the cruelty that human beings portray.
Any lurking bit of sanity he would quickly slay.
To stare deep within his eyes reveals a sort of vacancy.
Scars on his arms tell stories of his past dependencies.
Twisted best describes him, not just temporarily spun.
His ways tell not of what he craves but what he's already done.
He lives only to die but at a time he was dying to live.
He lost the chance he never had to show what he could give.
As they try to pry into the deepest sinews of his mind.
He knows even if they succeed they'll misinterpret all they find.
The genius was rejected, misfit's the name by which he's known.
Somewhere along his childhood his heart has turned to stone.
Without fear, remorse or limits, to himself he is a GOD.
To the world his fiercely sharpened senses only come across as odd.
Maybe the only one who understands the true nature of the world.
He absorbs every sensations as the madness unfurls.
But the truth will never be revealed, he will still be left ignored.
Rocking to and fro, with empty eyes, behind an institution door.
And no one listened when in the darkness he sat alone alone and cried.
Even sadder is no tears will fall when all alone he'll die.
To twisted to live yet to rare to simply die.
If asked the wrong question he would turn and walk away.
He demonstrated a sort of supernatural immortality.
Beneath his outer layer you could never really see.
The pools of darkness in his eyes revealed no mysteries.
Molded from the cruelty that human beings portray.
Any lurking bit of sanity he would quickly slay.
To stare deep within his eyes reveals a sort of vacancy.
Scars on his arms tell stories of his past dependencies.
Twisted best describes him, not just temporarily spun.
His ways tell not of what he craves but what he's already done.
He lives only to die but at a time he was dying to live.
He lost the chance he never had to show what he could give.
As they try to pry into the deepest sinews of his mind.
He knows even if they succeed they'll misinterpret all they find.
The genius was rejected, misfit's the name by which he's known.
Somewhere along his childhood his heart has turned to stone.
Without fear, remorse or limits, to himself he is a GOD.
To the world his fiercely sharpened senses only come across as odd.
Maybe the only one who understands the true nature of the world.
He absorbs every sensations as the madness unfurls.
But the truth will never be revealed, he will still be left ignored.
Rocking to and fro, with empty eyes, behind an institution door.
And no one listened when in the darkness he sat alone alone and cried.
Even sadder is no tears will fall when all alone he'll die.
Published 31st Jan 2012
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