He used to walk the halls as a lowly boy.
No friend or companion in sight, only his sorrows by his side
You could see his pencil lunge into his notebook each time he wrote
For what was he writing? Only he truly knows.
He was gossed by the people above him in the chain, his screams were loud but it was all in vain.
The day came where the boy had enough, like a metal rod he truly became tough.
T...