He never smiled, but his eyes were so warm with kindness
His palms were rough, yet his heart was so soft
He wore black and allowed the light to show on his face
But I cannot explain the blood he had on his hands
He moved slowly and thought quickly.
He let no one in, but others let him in
Never the one to shed a tear, and wiped away mine
But I cannot explain the blood he had on his hands
The shadows would cast on the side of his face, but ask his mother he is not a horrible man
Scars decorated his arms, but his friends can assure he could never hurt a fly
Look at the empathy in his eyes, a monster doesn't feel such things
But I cannot explain the blood he had on his hands
His friends do not understand his resentment
His mother could never describe his quietness
I know he is not a man of hatred
But I cannot explain the blood he had on his hands
A mystery, a person I could not describe
So simple but complex, not sad or depressed
A person I know I know, but I can't really summarize
But I cannot explain the blood he had on his hands
