The Myth Behind Me, Ceuthonymus

A boy was born one day

So many years ago.

He was different,

Of the likes which the world has

Never seen before.

He grow up into childhood

Where he was lonely

For he didn't have a voice.

The parents felt sad

For he was their ownly son

And wished him to be perfect

In any way possible.

They prayed to the gods

For him to be given a voice.

But the gods came down one day

And declared his prophecy

That he was born with the voice of chaos

That if he were to speak only madness and war

Would be in his wake

And the gods claimed to have removed his voice

Giving it to Echo to protect

For all of mankind and the childs sake.

The parents however disagreed,

They felt that the gods were making excuses

That the child should have his voice

And sought out for a witch.

The witch did this for free

And the parents were only too glad.

The child began to speak and to be

Set free from his voiceless haven.

For you see,

The child was happy and content without a voice.

Life was simple and good to him.

Then he had a voice

And the years passed,

The family struggled

For when ever he opened his mouth

And spoke the house would shake

With war between the parents and sisters.

All arguing and angered at each other

Confused to were it all was rooted and blaming each other

For who started all of the fighting.

The boy was utterly alone

He lost all his possible friends to his

Cursed voice, leaving a void that none could fill.

One night, the child got the sowing needle

And some thread and proceeded to sow his

Mouth shut.

No more could he speak,

His parents finding him the next morning

And went to work opening his mouth,

But once open, they find his tongue gone.

The boy would be mute

And the witch couldn't do anything for she died of old age.

Nobody else would touch the child after that

And he went on

Out of the home.

Into the big wide world to write

His poems

My stories and my poems

And i feel the pain everyday

Of losing all the loved ones,

To never see them again

Is a tragedy to befall onto me,

But it is the price for bringing that

Dreaded voice into existence,

Alone, without a name but the one they give me

The one hidden in darkness

He who should not be named

For I am the one to end this world

With the words I speak.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid read and write...Bravo.....