A WANTED MAN | Arthur Morgan
He rides through blood and prairie dust,
With calloused hands and iron trust.
A shadow carved from smoke and bone,
A man half wild, half overthrown.
He kills like thunder, silent-eyed,
Then lies awake for those who died.
The fire he stokes is not for warmth-
It burns the guilt he won't confront.
He speaks in silence, fights with grace,
A monster with a grieving face.
To some, he's death-unchained, unkind-
But in his chest, a softer mind.
He guards the weak, he feeds the horse,
He shields the child, he stays the course.
He feels too much to say it plain-
So he gives, then rides through rain.
No love has stayed, no roots were kept,
But in the night, he's quietly wept.
A killer, yes-but still a man,
Just trying to be more than he began.
