He has always dreamed of being a poet,
But in his early life he didn't know it.
Tormented by his own past,
In hopes that they pass,
That their dark fiendish hands no longer cast,
A shadow over him.

Nightmares reoccur haunting his soul,
Of heartbreak and pursuit of being whole,
Those nightmares evoked emotions,
So when screaming at silent oceans,
Was no longer an option,
He turned to his friend ; poetry.

His past keeps a grip on him,
Not letting go of his presence,
He bottled down to his last question,
'Who shall help me when I can't help myself?',
And a twinkle in the sky lit up his night,
He knew the flickering of flame quite often,
But this bright light guiding him,
Was different.
It was the stars,
And that was how he became a star gazer.