Without rest he sleeps,
Nothing left to mistreat,
From scars he eternally bleeds,
Growing a shell hard as concrete.
His instincts fully in wake,
For someone his heart does ache,
Cracking his shell,
Releasing him from this hell.
Upon seeing this Angel,
Wondering was she able,
To fully salvage,
That which others had damaged.
Or was she already prepared,
To say there is nothing left to be repaired.
Was it she, whom he was searching for,
Deep inside his shattered core?
YOU ARE READING
Random poetry, philosophy and thoughts.
RandomPoetry, philosophy and such coming to mind. Although be warned this book does prospect many things you may not feel comfortable with, reading at your discretion.
