He is a mystery to me.
He changes like the sea,
A high to low tide in a matter
Of minutes.
Maybe even seconds,
Like the seconds between the time
His smile waxes and wanes.
His hair is a fire,
Like the one that's burning away
Inside his mind,
And his eyes are the blue of a
Wasted dream.
The way he stares at you
So stoically
- like he's trying to hide something -
Could turn the biggest giant
To solid granite,
Waiting for the world to come around.
Its almost like he's trying
To stand out and blend in simultaneously.
Which is almost impossible,
But he acheives his goal,
Showing what he wants to be seen
And hiding what he doesn't.
He is so much more than
He thinks he is.
Low self-worth is his chess,
Lonliness is like solitaire.
He tries to make it seem
Like he doesn't care,
But in reality,
He cares too much.
He is irony in a being, in a soul.
In a world that tries to crush anyone
It can, he crumbles,
But wants to keep on standing.
But nobody can.
So he keeps living out his irony,
Being a symbol of
Something,
Something I can't quite figure out.
To me, he is a mystery.
A mystery that I want to solve.
One that I think will reveal
Something about a truth, a light,
Or a way.
He,
He is a mystery to me
