He’s so depressed he can barely
Hide it inside himself anymore
The look on his face pains
My heart more than the knowledge
That even I can’t help him
When he gets this way…

The crowed rooms of heartless
Fools add to the battle he wages
Inside the hidden parts of his
Mind where I can’t see him bleeding
Crying alone as I watch his face turn
Cold while his eyes plead for my help...

I’m no doctor, I can’t prescribe him
Pills to drown out his heartache
I’m not a dealer, I’ve got no drugs
To give him an escape from this
I’m not a magician, I lack the magic
Needed to cure him of himself…

I can’t make him like himself
Any more than I can make the
Moon turn into a shooting star
To wish upon. He lets me in
But only so far as the front
Yard to his prison of a mind…

Why won’t he let me see
The wounds he’s created in
His own self-esteem? I’d sew
Them up with delicate thread
And gentle loving hands if only
He’d let me get close enough…