He rest's his head
on a pillow made of concrete

Feeling maybe he'll see
a better set of days

Hands out again see faces
that are not familiar

Dark grin he can't hold in
when he looks happy
he looks insane

Thoughts arrive like butterflies
he doesn't know so he chase's them away

Kneeling down looking at papers
though he doesn't know how to read

Praying to something that has
never showed him anything

Feelings understand the weather
and he's know winter is on the way

Ceilings few and far between
all legal halls of shame

Whispering to his hands gently
to please take him away