12am

9:45 and all was well
the little boy was far from hell.
He pranced around so free from thought
and to all others his ills were forgot.

10:30 and all was fine
the lonely boy was far from dying.
The light inside still burning brightly,
malicious intentions held only slightly.

11:15 and things got worse
death danced around like a demonic curse.
The boy lost his kindness and every friend,
along with the fear he'd held of life's end.

12am the sky ran red
the boy, now older, lay cold and dead
a knife clenched tight between his fist
with long red tracks along his wrist.