Is the man behind the truth
He's socially inept
Societies reserved debt
Quizzing personalities sooth
Lost within his youth
The man too awkward to talk
Fragile flower without a stalk
Axe murderer or serial killer
Questioning looks at Benjamin Miller
Neither will he be
Traversely still, a lonely tragedy
Wanting for a need
A friendly trusting seed
He laughs along with them all
Yet feels so very small
Peculiarity reigns
Troubles his soul, destroys his brain.
One day they may find him all alone
Left with no nourishment
Just skin and bone
What a quiet fellow they say
Then bury him beneath
The muddy clay
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