There once was a beautiful young boy

He was born at noon, and was the pride and joy

Of his mother and his father

His father, befallen by addiction

Suffering the bastard drunkards affliction

Destroyed his home and the life of son,

His wife, and his own

The boy, unbaptized, found no salvation

At heavens gates

And too pure to be cast to the hellfire

Remained in his body and burned

His bones charred and mixed

With the rubble of brick and mud

His soul caught in new form

And from his former self torn

Arose out of clay

He was found in the smoldering remains

And given to the village mother

Jane Long, fifty years his elder

Cared for the boy and named him

She adopted him as her own

He became everything she desired

He enraptured the people of the village

Called the perfect child

Made of clay he constantly shifted

To new forms; becoming the mirror of desire

For every person; they saw in him

Everything the wished and hoped for.

As he grew older, he began to wonder

About who he was; he grew tired

Of being what everyone else desired

And one day he studied himself in the mirror

He tried to mold himself in to what he wanted

Into something that was truly him;

To find himself in the reflection.

He failed every time and shattered the mirror.

His thoughts tore him apart and shattered him

Like glass;

His mind was plagued by violent dissonance.

In his agony, he sought absolution;

He decried himself possessed by a demon

And fated himself to be burned alive

To find some permanence