In the morning he feels the weight,
The pounding rhythm of the hour,
Where he starts his day
Having to bear the effects of getting such jumbled thoughts
And mixed vain feelings
Where are the answers to the questions that do not wish to have answers?

Inside the scriptures of mind
No thought is second guessed
The reasons of the rhythm stand true
There is something inside of him that moves
* ~A heart he claims to not have *
  The one that lingers and vibrates
At the bottom of the sea
Aligning with the coral shelves
Worrying about whom he's yet to meet
Whom will figure out
That in his heat lies a soul
In his hell lies a prophet
yet to reach potential
   Having to
Push his door open
And burn the envelop that cages him

But he fears
Letting go of this hatred
Would waken the realization
Of how alone he really is
For that hatred
Is what keeps him from cracking
Is what helps him maintain
His make belief life of dark love
But in actuality
It's just clothing on the lonesome truth
Of his scarred
Made of Steele
Lonely Lion Heart

-fir.m

What are we worth?
See the thing is,
      We have none.

-fir.m