The Broken Man

I know he's there, not far away
Though his stares are cold
That's just his way.

He really cares
But it never shows
Because he cares
You'll never know.

His life is made
Of just four walls,
A prying doctor
And paging calls.

This livid man
Once full of life,
Lost his way
Through sullen strife.

He once was wed
But death came near
And took his bride
Their fifteenth year.

He tried to live
To do things right
But found the struggle
Not worth the fight.

He rarely speaks,
Though often stares
And often thinks
That no one cares.

He's just a shell
Just made of man,
Not empty space
Like empty can.

He speaks to me
And confides his past,
He weaves his dreams
But they don't last.

When it's time
That I must go,
I see him stare
As if he's alone,

And there he sits
In silence weeps
His uncried tears
Never touch his cheeks,

Many know him
And think he's crazed,
He feels forsaken
And hides his shame.

The pain he bears
Is his alone,
He sits and stares
And thinks of home.

Fadedspirit 4/10/2008