The joyful husk

The once joyful, husk The joyful boy, is no more. Killed in a murder that no one saw Dead yet breathing, an emotionless husk. a void unfilled, he feels utterly f****d No knives, not even words mere gestures, thats all or perhaps the hesitance in her voice, as she tried to stall. But life goes on, he told himself, as he put his bleak diary back somewhere into his wall and if there were a god, he'd laugh so hard How Ironic, that everyone believes it, but the boy himself