The Boy Who Almost Saved The World

He saw a raconteur,
Listened to her anecdotes of the painful hours,
Of mans cruel and devastating killing frenzy,
Where war causes death and agony,
He listened, fidget and winced,
The tales of grotesque and idiotesque,
He thought that human must be ashamed,
To be human,
As we live like the Devils,
Thinking, breathing of evil,
As human kill for sheer pleasure,
Just to know our power to measure,
We slaughter, decapitate,
Dismember, stab, incinerate,
The people we hate,
For sheer pleasure,
For the boy has seen,
The scene of death,
It was never a scene of picturesque,
One of many we all detest,
As humans are proud,
Burning little children,
To fry their parents,
The scene not for the faint-hearted,
Our minds are disturbed and distorted,
The memories of death,
Grows sicker and sicker,
The boy looked in disgust,
Walked away from humanity,
Meditated far away in a cave near a sea,
For the breeze gave him tranquility,
Then he made a peregrination, trying to find,
The facts of life and living,
A common language that is forgotten,
He mastered and became wise,
For nature enticed him,
With Tales of Truths,
Tales of The World,
He left to the city,
Now is controlled by animosity,
A war brewed for almost a thousand years,
Casualties increasing including someone he dears,
He stood in the middle,
Where bullets fiddled,
He listened to the sounds,
Sounds of the cacophonic weapons,
Stopped the war by raising his arms,
A thousand stories he told,
Secrets of death that has unfold,
The gruesome truth, the sick twisted mind,
The raconteur smiled, her message now defined,
The truth of war, shoots through one of Hell's door,
The war stopped, they just seen the real mind,
The death of innocents cannot be unwind,
Peace could be restored,
But stubbornness prevailed,
The true madness of men has unveiled,
The boy, wrongly accused of witchcraft,
Was banished,
The poisonous rumour,
Spread like a cancer,
Nobody cares about him anymore,
And the raconteur died,
Killed by a madman,
The boy lived at the back alleys,
Looked at the hopeless city,
There on the dark alley,
He laid and curled,
From that day he called himself,
The Boy Who Almost Saved The World.