Now hope is good and hope is strong, but pain had stayed, for far too long, to see him cry and watch him fall, pain was there, through it all.

This pain he knew, now all too well, had swallowed hope, and left a shell, its brittle make, a jaded shape, left nothing then, for pain to take.

He cursed his name, and others too, because of pain, no one knew, but who could blame, a young mans curse, when dealt a hand, of luck reversed?

To live a life, of woes unfair, plagued by strife, as fate declared, that he would know, the pain of chance, all alone, in circumstance.

To make it worse, no one tried, to hear his words, and soothe his mind, they laughed at him, and mocked his pain, until he lost, all hope again.

No shock then, that he had shattered, weighed down so, by years of pain, though he cared, for all that mattered, no one dared, do the same.

So he gave himself, to all around, in hopes that he, could see them through, the pain they felt, when they were down, as pain to him, was nothing new.