A light
A light, a light post
A bedside lamp that keeps a light on the paper into dusk
A story teller with whip scares and childhood memories
It all lays beneath the darkest of cloud cover
Beneath a hawks eye in search of…
Do the lights shine through the story tellers window
Highlighting white lines on his desk, mimicking the ones on his back
He is so great, a delightful sole
Kind and trustworthy to the extent of lonely tomorrows
Of sorrows deserved and prayed for
His scars remain only as comfort
A warm feeling that reminds him of other times
Of past comfort, past relationships with past loves
His elegance and wit is part of his sole
But his blame lays on all that surrounds
Causing guilt, raising doubt in others morals
Raising insanity with every glance.
Forced goodness that flows as a pen on newly pressed paper.