He is a golden boy
hair made from strands of sun
and skin as dark as
the war that raged inside his mind
his words are sandstorm
ready to blow away those foolish enough
to travel the desert without willpower
there are cobras coiling in his veins
venomous and deadly and glinting like stars
as the dove on his back spread their wings
and try to fly away
He is a golden boy
heart buried deep beneath
shriveling everyday as he try to
held the world on his shoulders