If I could rest every one of his burdens on my shoulders
I'd do it.
They're scarred and battered and broken
( just like him ),
but I am sure he would still call them beautiful-
or, I hope he does, at least,
so I can call him out on his hypocrisy.

Let it be known;
I breathe, not to be fixed by you,
but to find a way to help
put you back together
and I am not scared of your
wolves nor
your roar.

I'll be patiently awaiting this moment,
with my amour shed and my hammer steady,
and I swear I'll do it-
- gladly.