The Self-slaughter Affair

In 1962, tucked away from memory
An institute in which a boy suffered utmost tragedy
No one speaks about the case of arryn Jack
Peculiar, unnatural, his mind twisted and black

The world that he resides, misshapen and obscure
An irony a child could be entranced with death's allure
The night he walked the gardens and met a tall young man
They talked for hours and hours before young arryn left the lad

The boy awoke, eager to converse
Peered into his friend's room
The man had split his head in two
A horrific sight, though not the last
Behold death's point of view

Caretaker, she makes his bed
She caught a glimpse of his visage
And from his gaze she fled

Clawing out her eyes
"I can't unsee his glare"
With a slipknot, tightly wrapped
She kicked away the chair

The asylum
Fell into despair
The asylum
A self-slaughter affair

Death child
He hears them shouting
Wondering if the voices will take him away

They had no chance to survive
No meaning in their suicide
It must somehow be his fault
No signs of struggle or assault

Young arryn knew
The men will come again
And lock him up
Unless he talks to them

He had no control
No way he could know
All he wanted was to speak his mind

The doctors and nurses, as if snarled by curses
Had slit all of their fucking throats and died

The asylum
Fell into despair
The asylum
A self-slaughter affair

No one speaks about the case of arryn Jack
Peculiar, unnatural, his mind twisted and black
The world that he resides, misshapen and obscure
The patients who grew fond of him, their lives could not endure