All his life he was the shoulder to cry on
the person to come to when something went wrong
and as kind as he was he would never object
though he carried the faults of the world on his shoulders
along with his own pain
He was the kind of boy who kept to himself
he had been hurt in the past
and he cried as anger filled him
he cried for all the wrongs said and done
Now he is a man
and with every tragedy
all he could feel was pain
but never was he able to shed a tear
for he had wasted so many of them.
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This one is for my lovely friend.
