My evil Son

Publiziert 30. April 2026 | Von Syntronica

My evil Son

A quiet room, a ticking clock
A life defined by ritual talk
The lines are drawn, the rules are set
No space for change, no room for breath

He walks in patterns, day by day
A scripted world that will not sway
Three times a year, the same old road
A silent pact, a heavy code

No questions asked, no borders crossed
Spontaneity already lost
And in his eyes, a fragile throne
Where fear is carved in rigid stone

And every voice that dares to bend
Becomes a threat, must meet an end
Not by rage, but colder art
A quiet verdict from the heart

Oh my evil son, you never scream
You build your walls on what has been
A world of right, a world of wrong
But never where we both belong

Oh my evil son, so calm, so pure
So certain what is right and sure
But in your truth I disappear
A stranger shaped by silent fear

A moral crown, so neatly worn
Inherited, but never torn
The voices whisper what is real
And teach him what he’s meant to feel

A child within that learned too soon
The world must march to a single tune
So love becomes a measured game
And difference wears the mask of shame

And every laugh that breaks the line
Is labeled wrong, denied design
A barking dog, a life unplanned
A threat he cannot understand

Oh my evil son, you never fight
You simply vanish from the light
When truth appears you can’t contain
You turn away, erase the stain

Oh my evil son, so disciplined
A prisoner of the world within
And while you judge what we have done
You never see what you’ve become

We stood in light, among the crowd
No need for rules, no voices loud
And still they saw what you denied
No evil there, no need to hide

You turned away, you closed the door
When truth became too real to ignore
Not hate, not rage, not even blame
Just silence speaking through your name

Oh my evil son, I let you go
Not out of hate, but what I know
A heart that fears what it can’t see
Will never learn to just be free

Oh my evil son, your world remains
A clockwork heart in iron chains
But we are wind, we move, we run
Beyond the reach of “evil son”

The clock still ticks, the lines still hold
A story written, never told
But far beyond that silent throne
We live a life that’s still our own