Life was a game that he was in,
Whatever he did,
He simply couldn’t win.
Marked by the pains and tragedies of his life,
He felt so alone,
So he befriended a knife.
Confused by the corruption of humanity,
He was the only one that would play chess with me.
Made the wrong errors,
Was his fatal mistake,
If only someone had been there to care,
His life wouldn’t have been at stake.
He was only sixteen,
Just a kid,
A lonely boy wallowing into the depths of his soul,
Before the police arrived at the scene.
And so on the bedroom floor he died,
Death took his hand,
And he gave up the fight,
Of this tragic game called life.
