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He claims to be that of darkness;
filled with rage, a flaming coal.
I see the light within his heart;
it is that, which enchants my soul.
His exhaustion makes him weary;
his profession leaves him seething.
I see dedication, a man so loyal;
a man whose valor is like breathing.
He says he is void of feeling,
heartless, and prone to depression.
I see a blank canvas, a slate wiped clean;
his life is poetry, an art by expression.
He sees his faults, a tortured soul;
his writes describe the pain.
I see his greatness, my man is a king;
over my heart, he does reign.

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