His power was rooted in darkness,
but he constantly fought his thoughtless urges.
Being kind with tiny purchases,
opening doors, asking others
what they are searching for
in his poetic type pleas
that he typed out for strangers to read.

Perhaps it was his need
to be here, to plant seeds,
to breathe deep of this sweet air,
and speak loudly to be heard clear,
because it was his own obscurity he feared.

Sometimes he felt like a parody
or a pale reflection
of human emotion.
He couldn’t tell if in his expressions
he was just a mimicker those around,
or if these deep feelings were truly his?

His smile and gentleness
hid the gravity of violence
that he had lived in,
and most of the time he thought
the goodness he was giving
was in direct opposition
to the pain he once existed in
and his desire to never see
another human being
suffering.