The light will fade, the dark will swell,
And when it's over, no one will hear the knell—
No cries from the child who tried to hide,
Drowning in shame, buried inside.

No whispers of pain through silent halls,
No tears that stained those crumbling walls.
No screams behind that locked-up door,
Just blood that pooled on the bathroom floor.

"A mistake," they said. "A misfit freak—
A boy with a girl’s touch, soft and weak."
They mocked him each time he dared resist,
Each blow a lesson: he did not exist.

They never cared that words could slice,
Could bleed a soul more than any knife.
Insults dug deeper than wounds ever could,
Leaving behind stains misunderstood.

Demons clung to him like flies to rot,
Whispering every lie they’d taught.
Stripped of hope, silenced and shamed—
A hollow shell, no longer named.

And there, beyond the mirror’s face,
Stood what was left in shattered grace:
A broken boy, fading fast,
Branded a "mistake" from the start to last