long ago, a boy was born out of torn shreds of paper,
his skin was a hundred year old tale,
his frozen blue eyes were hid in an invisible cloud of vapor,
ink got erased, his skin turned dead pale,
inside the swirling mist, he evaporated,
from his dwelling soul, was born a tear-filled dale,
from the heart of the sea of tears, his sorrow got plated,
he was shattered, a rose so frail,
the moon lived on the lining of his skin,
his psyche fed on every crestfallen tear descending into his ocean,
out of a goblet of tears, was born a twin,
his eyes were gravestones, his blood a potion,
the rest of the story was engraved in his eyes,
his eyes screamed death, his mouth spoke emotion,
out of the horizon, came the tear-filled skies,
it rained felicity, their seas got frozen,
nowadays, their statues stand on the verge of earth,
nowadays they don't trick fate, they don't show motion,
their ocean is now filled with a lingering curse,
and out of all the fates that they clove,
was made a book, out of a million verse,
while they were conceived from twisted tales in their skin sewn,
now they're immortal, now they're lines of eternal words,
in their very own ocean, they're little mermen fated to foam.
