You can see it in his eyes, his lips, face
When he leave a person, a place
He doesn't know how to mask it, he must be careful
who he lets into his space
Everywhere he goes, he leaves a trace
Emotions rub off on others
And he's a disgrace

Broken and dead
put him in a box
Bury him six feet deep
Cover him with rocks
Let him sleep
Among stopped clocks
Such is their wish, though death never knocks

He has been dropped from a height
He appears to have flopped
Yet in the Lords sight
He is mighty and bright
He will reap the crops
And the fruit of his work
When he outlives those that smirk