Anon's Little Life.

Once upon a time, there was a pretty little boy.
His education was high, and his manner was coy.

He loved to read, and he loved to draw.
Little did we know, he would soon fall.

Daddy was part of an up standing committee.
Mommy was well dressed and always pretty.

Daddy and Mommy were were of high class.
Little did they know, soon they would pass.

Butler Alexander was a dark, quiet man.
He was always thinking, beginning to plan.

He taught little Anon of art and song.
And planned to slay him, it wouldn't be long.

One winter, in the dark of night,
The family would know the deepest of fright.

Mommy sat lovely, preening her hair.
In the shards of mirror, her vacant green stare.

He hated how she was so filled with pride.
On that night, ugly she died.

Daddy was one of the strongerst stock holder.
Alexander hated how he sang of his folder.

Daddy's favorite possession was his 88 Winchester.
A week later, the head wound would drip and fester.

And now for Anon, the kind and pure.
It was into death, Alexander would lure.

He sat him in the kitchen fed him with cream.
And then with Absinthe that's oh-so-green.

Little Anon so kind and sweet.
That late night snack was his final treat.

He was given a glass, with a pretty clear bubble.
It was undilluted, it was surely trouble.

Anon was taken aback, it was strong and bitter.
Alexander insisted he finish the green glitter.

Alxander smiled, and spoke of his loves.
Anon saw as he removed his white gloves.

Sudden as shock, the child's stomach heaved.
Could it be he was truly decieved?

The world churned in darks and blur.
From the strange visions, the child must deter.

Demons, and monsters flamed and coiled.
Alexander grieved, he will not be foiled.

Little Anon ran as fast as he could.
The walls warping, even though they were wood.

Slowly poisoned, the child's life waning.
Alexander grieved, he was not feining.

Little Anon fell in slow motion.
His mode of death, the lovely green potion.

The family was wicked and full of greed.
To end their existance, it was a need.

Victoria sat in front of three graves.
To greed and aravice, they were no longer slaves.

Mother, Father, and Little Anon.
And now for Victoria, it won't be long.