To him who is the epitome of darkness
And holds such power in his hands, to she
He appeals to every crevice of existence
That lingers in her heart and her creation
He hides in the gloominess of the flood
In which love destroys itself, but poor boy
To him he is innocent and broken
As his heart is vulnerable and open,
He sees no danger or hope ahead
But lies in sorrow and wishes he be dead
But he can’t see that now is when he is
The most beautiful, for his heart is spilling out
And his tears overflowing release the pain,
He is the most untrusting now than ever
As his skies are filled with ash and burn his
Face leaving scars like freckles under his
Brown eyes that he will remember for years,
But she can see through his mask to find shattered
Pieces of his hopes and dreams on the floor;
For his wings are black as night, and hers are
shining light, reaching through the darkness,
And she will take him in and then he’ll discover
There’s nothing he has to worry about
For she is seamstress of hearts and has
No reluctance of healing him, so
Deeply she empathizes for his soul
That she will rip out her heartstrings and
Mend his heart until she sees it fit to
Be in use again, and all of this is
In the hopes that she may own his heart
Sometime not to far off in the future.