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Description
I think everyone, at some point, sacrifices at least some of their childhood innocence in the process of growing up.

Pietro, it seems to me, sacrificed quite a bit more.

These scans don't even really show the difference between which one is inked, and which one is penciled. 9_9

This is probably one of my favourite images in this set of drawings.

__________________________________________________________________________

When I was 9, I learned survival. Taught myself not to care.

I was my single, good companion. Taking my comfort there.

Up in my room, I planned my conquests. All alone, never asked for a helping hand. No-one would understand.

I never asked the ones who moved below. Just incase they said "No."

Pity the child that has ambition. Knows what he wants to do. Knows that he'll never fit the system others expect him to.

Pity the child who knew his family. Saw their faults, saw the love die before his eyes. Pity the child that wise.

He never asked "Did I cause your distress?" ... just incase they said "Yes."

When I was 12, my father moved out. I wasn't enough to keep him about.

I didn't miss him, he made it perfectly clear that I was a fool and probably queer.

I took the road of least resistance, I had my games to play. I had the skill, and more, the hunger, easy to get away.

Pity the child wiht no such weapons, no defence no escape from the ties that bind. Always a step behind.

I never called to tell him all I'd done. I was only his son.

Pity the child, but not forever. Not if he stays that way. He can get all he ever wanted... if he's prepared to pay.

Pity, instead, the careless father. What he missed, what he lost when he Let me go. And I wonder if he knows...

I wouldn't call, a crazy thing to do. Just incase he says "... who?"

Lyrics (more or less) from Chess.
Actual Lyrics: [link]
YouTubes: [link]

Description
I think everyone, at some point, sacrifices at least some of their childhood innocence in the process of growing up.

Pietro, it seems to me, sacrificed quite a bit more.

These scans don't even really show the difference between which one is inked, and which one is penciled. 9_9

This is probably one of my favourite images in this set of drawings.

__________________________________________________________________________

When I was 9, I learned survival. Taught myself not to care.

I was my single, good companion. Taking my comfort there.

Up in my room, I planned my conquests. All alone, never asked for a helping hand. No-one would understand.

I never asked the ones who moved below. Just incase they said "No."

Pity the child that has ambition. Knows what he wants to do. Knows that he'll never fit the system others expect him to.

Pity the child who knew his family. Saw their faults, saw the love die before his eyes. Pity the child that wise.

He never asked "Did I cause your distress?" ... just incase they said "Yes."

When I was 12, my father moved out. I wasn't enough to keep him about.

I didn't miss him, he made it perfectly clear that I was a fool and probably queer.

I took the road of least resistance, I had my games to play. I had the skill, and more, the hunger, easy to get away.

Pity the child wiht no such weapons, no defence no escape from the ties that bind. Always a step behind.

I never called to tell him all I'd done. I was only his son.

Pity the child, but not forever. Not if he stays that way. He can get all he ever wanted... if he's prepared to pay.

Pity, instead, the careless father. What he missed, what he lost when he Let me go. And I wonder if he knows...

I wouldn't call, a crazy thing to do. Just incase he says "... who?"

Lyrics (more or less) from Chess.
Actual Lyrics: [link]
YouTubes: [link]