In the mist
Of morning dew,
Stands a man
Of tales unknown.
He speaks to none
Of horrors he knows
And all that he has done.
Standing alone,
This man, he waits.
Seeing all
And holding most.
He cuts off people
From his hreat,
But in it's depth
Is where he waits.
The morning sun
Shows her rays,
But he still stands
And makes no move.
His stance is tall
And makes all fear
What they don't know
And can't understand.
With crimson eyes
He watchs the skies.
Beneath their rage
Is world of unseen lost.
But deep within
Something stirs....
Fully covered
In morn's light,
He softly sighs
And speaks no sounds.
For what he has
And what he holds
Is his to know
And others to guess.
~~~
Is about of friend of mine I that I can tell is in great pain but won't tell anyone about it.
