Under the Sakura Tree

Silver, that was the color of the child's right eye upon birth, Blue, was the other, A mop of beautiful black hair. He had a silver heart on his cheek and a rose on his forehead, silver vines along his arms. He was absolutely perfect.

To bad his father never saw it, Pain. It filled the castle in wails from a new born child, as he was abused, His mothers sobs as she fought to protect him, Keep him away from the man that hurt him, Using her own self as a shield. Blood running down her body, falling in droplets on the infants face. He would be forever haunted by the color silver...

Blood,
Eye,
Tattoo,

Silver, they where all silver. His mothers beautiful hair, with its silver streaks.

He would never remember it...She died a week after. Abused to the point of no recovery, leaving her baby in total helplessness. He grew up, looking just like his mother, But he didn't have her beautiful silver streaks, He only had her long dark ebony locks, they fell around him in a tangled mess as he grew up. When he turned four, His father made them leave the castle. Moving to a small town, Where he grew up then as a slave. Abused and in tears at the end of every night, thinking. He didn't want this anymore, he wanted out, He wanted away. Light someone save him.

But nobody ever did, four more years, He still lived there. Still a slave to a father who hated him, He wondered where his 'rethom' was, Why she abandoned him.

He couldn't read, speak, barely could walk. Always dragging a hurting leg behind him, He was screamed at for not talking, but, He had never learned to form words, and often a lip was far to swollen to try.

Food, it was good, but it was sparse, It was enough to keep him alive in the end, but nothing more. Crying at night because of the pain of hunger, He vowed not to eat if it would make it stop.