Chapter Text
WhEn I was five years old, I met the Mystery Man.
He had brown hair and his coat was tan,
His face was scarred and his eyes were sad,
So I asked him, “What's wrong, Mystery Man?”
He startled a little, and with gun in hand
EXclaiMed as he shot into the woodland,
I screaMed out as well, and almost ran,
But instead stayed put only to hear his reprimand
“Don’t scare me like that, I could’Ve turned you to sand!”
Nearly crying, I once again Questioned the man.
His eyes softened for a moment, as he knelt down and
Said, “I'm sorry, But you simply cannot understand.”
“Why not?” I asKed. Indignant, I made my demand,
“What will make you happy, mystery man?”
He sighed as I Quizzed him, knElt down and offered his hand.
“Let’s find your parents.” Once I took it, he started to stand.
As we walked through the woods, an almost fairyland,
I saw that he had siX fingers on each of his hands.
But I never said anything or changed my command,
I just wanted to Know how to fix the mystery man.
On that walk, I picKed Flowers, Sang songs, and made garlands,
But nOthing seemed to helP my mystery man,
For indeed how could a mere child understand
The woe of the man who put his world in Bill’s hands. (XOV)