"Apparently he doesn't, Woolf huffed, crossing his arms as he brought his knees up and rested his arms on them. He placed his head on them, staring at the wall before him. The tragedy of the misunderstood psychopath. No matter what he said it was clear he had some sort of problems, as the scarring on his body clearly showed evidence to his insanity. His eyes, though intelligent, were that of a tortured soul's. Even his lips had scarring in the shape of teeth marks from him biting his lip to keep himself from tearing away his skin. His face was more gaunt than it had been originally. He was not normal, it was clear, but that was no longer the question. The question was whether it was rightto shove this in his face or not. Currently he was in denial, he wasn't capable of thinking he could truly be some monster. His mind had crafted reasons for everything he'd done. He had convinced himself that he was in the right. That he was normal, that everyone else was in the wrong. Was it time for him to give up? Was he capable of it? The answer was no. Woolf wasn't born this way, not really. Yes, there had been mental damage done to him because his mother drank heavily while pregnant with him. But she and his father also completely ignored him for the most part and gave their attention to his older brother, making him an attention-hungry monster. But he couldn't accept this. He wasn't capable of such.
"There was was a man who's name was Stan,
Who killed his son with a hoe.
He was tried in court as a young man short
With his eyes as wide as a doe.
"'Proof you haven't got, a criminal you han't caught!'
Cried he, his voice loud and slow.
But the judge did glare with an icy stare,
one which Stan wished away he'd stow.
"'Not quite so,' quipped his lawyer foe,
'For now you shall see a bloodstain!'
'Twas on' 'bout a dime-size, but proof it was.
Cried Stan, 'This man I claim INSANE!'
"'ORDER, ORDER IN THE COURT! QUIET, QUIET, YOUNG MAN SHORT!'
Never, ever shall you see, a judge that roared so angrily.
'Twas clear at that point what he thought.
'Twas clear at that point he was bought," muttered Woolf, his brows knitted. The ballad clearly wasn't about Stan, but rather about Woolf himself. He was trying to express his story in a more lighthearted, poetic sense.
"There are two sides to every coin, girl. I won't be that judge. I won't call the shots on what happened in your life. Maybe you really were framed, who knows? I just think that he doesn't," Woolf replied, his eyes closed and his voice strangely placid and calm. He wasn't that dangerous unless you really angered him. These people were on the verge on it, but before he did something he regretted, he wanted to calm himself down.
"And by the way, I'm not here by choice. I'm here because I was told to meet a few newcomers and welcome them here. I wasn't planning on turning it into an argument."