He was a battle cry in the dark
To latch on to the last remaining
Sparks of a past life
Ignorance in the first degree while witch hunts ****** the dangerous
In theory he's inquisitive
He should handle emotion with care
But he was a dagger in my wounds
Which he jokes about
In turn with those who can't walk, cant talk, cant eye stalk
And in trust we signed our traumas to him just to mark them as average
To reward a mans unspoken need to discourage a woman
Who gave every word to him.