The Bleeding heart of a boy buried within a man,
discerns the constraints of society, its viciousness
incessantly setting ablaze to the possible,
declaring his dreams impossible,
forcing the acceptance of the extremely improbable.

The Bleeding heart of a boy on his way to being a man,
knows the blood, sweat, and tears that pour
from the soul in the heat of the moment,
and most often in the dead of the night,
tossing and turning in the barren sheets
as the waning moon begins to wax its galaxies milky strand.

The Bleeding heart of a boy turned to man knows little boundaries,
the radiant son has no limits and has no end.
The real Question lies in how far he’ll go, and to what avail
that what he waits for may never show.