On the eve of his sixteenth birthday
Lost will be his sense and wit
Pray and pray and pray he may
None will save him from the gritting teeth
Of uncertainty
Blinding cloud of doubt and consternation
Envelops his skeleton and skin
Gone is all the granted adoration
Replaced with concern and harsh rejection
Walk and walk and walk he may
Farther from the warmth of the castle
Deeper into the woods of loath and decay
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