Under his crossed scarred arms,
Beats the heart of a fighter,
Beaten back by his own failings,
He fights for something he cannot conjure.
Willing everything that screams inside,
To pour from his fingertips,
And swirl into something for him to love,
Giving substance to something he feels.
Looking into fictional eyes,
The depth of feeling in every gesture,
Holds tightly in a dwindling light,
Contrasting with the bleakness around,
Sing to him like love is new,
Promises binding and complete,
To bring flesh to air,
And words from silence.
Let his heart lay his arms to rest,
And walk a new path where love is his guidance,
And its beats drown out the lonely silence.