There was a Crooked Man who walked a crooked mile
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
The whispers first started during their second year—the disrespect to their opponents, the slowly mounting arrogance…
All it did was increase the distance that yawned between them.
Then there was third year. The whispers got louder, almost drowning out his own thoughts at some points. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't really get through. They only cared about winning.
They had brought him life, really, giving him a purpose, a reason.
It had been wonderful.
But it had all been ripped away from him. By the very same people who gave it to him. Maybe that was their right, their entitlement, to take away the gift they had bestowed upon him, but that did not make it hurt any less.
They had ripped his heart out after all.
Abandoned him to the very darkness they had once chased away.
A single tear traced its way down his face, and he firmly pushed away any doubts. He breathed deeply as a soft breeze caressed his face from where he stood on the roof of Teikou Middle School.
He stared up at the brilliant blue sky above, hand trembling.
A door slammed open behind him.
And he pulled the trigger.
And then he had a crooked thought:
Why must crookedness be my lot,
Why must I be crooked, instead of not?
And the crooked man would cry,
And he couldn't fathom why…
He was sad all the time.
And so he cried
And he climbed up his crooked stairs
Of his crooked little home
And he tied up a crooked noose
And ended his crooked life.