From Behind A Patient's Eyes
From Behind A Patient's Eyes.
Looking down at my white gown,
my dirt covered feet and my the ground underneath them.
I looked up to the men in front of me.
The one in the front, the boy, not the hero, yes, just a man,
in a suit of black and snow white hair.
I thought of how people must think he's something great,
but you see, I saw through him.
He was just a man, just a boy,
just wanting to give people a second chance.
I saw this through his hazel eyes that pierced mine with hatred.
He felt so alone, so dead inside.
That's why he wanted to give others a second chance at a life they should have never had,
If anything he was not a hero, just a boy, but if anything a saviour.
A saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned.
Behind him, the one with the brown eyes and black hair.
The lip rings and the black gloves.
I saw only a dream behind his muddy eyes.
A dream he kept reaching out for, but never caught a hold of.
I looked up at the sky, something you can catch a hold of.
It always slips through your fingers.
You never completely have it, and this was his dream.
What that dream was about, well that's past me.
But deep down he was the one who held the most sorrow.
For the world and himself.
He held the world on his shoulders.
He always felt misery, and late at night when his 4 friends where gone,
he was the one to cry himself to sleep.
He was to depressing, I couldn't stand reading him anymore.
My gaze flickered to the one on the other side of the saviour.
The one with brown hair and brown eyes.
No piercings, just the same black suit, he looked so dull,
but an extra-ordinary life lay in his background.
Yes, indeed.
He was the one who talked to each and every person they gave a second chance.
He was the one to comfort the people and tell them they would soon be happy.
That they would soon be in a place where nothing bad or evil could ever touch them.
If he was lieing, I had no clue.
But he had done it so many times, I doubt he was lieing.
I bet he had faith in his friends and himself.
The one in the background, with the redish-orange afro.
He looked evil and looked full of hatred and anger.
But looking into his past, I found out why.
I found out why he was in this little operation.
He had lost his family, his love.
He joined these people to make sure this never again happened to anyone else.
To make sure they got another chance at love, at their life.
This one brought a smile to my face as the wind began to blow.
I looked over as brown, dull leaves fluttered in the wind.
My eyes finally rested on the last man.
Blonde hair and a lip ring.
He was the muscle behind this group.
He helped them get to places they couldn't.
He helped them get to the people they where after.
He was the burly one.
the muscle.
He was also the one with the most peace, oddly.
He was centered and was wise.
He told the others when they were wrong
He told the other when there was a better route.
He kept the peace, the tranquilty.
He was the one to help the most.
As the saviour, not not the hero, the boy stretched his black glove hand out to me and said, "Let us help you, please. Come with us." I knew I was in good hands. I reached my pale, ice cold hand out to his and took it, grasping it tightly. A smile stretched across his face, an eerie one, but still I knew this was my second chance. And I knew they would make sure I was happy when it all ended.
Looking down at my white gown,
my dirt covered feet and my the ground underneath them.
I looked up to the men in front of me.
The one in the front, the boy, not the hero, yes, just a man,
in a suit of black and snow white hair.
I thought of how people must think he's something great,
but you see, I saw through him.
He was just a man, just a boy,
just wanting to give people a second chance.
I saw this through his hazel eyes that pierced mine with hatred.
He felt so alone, so dead inside.
That's why he wanted to give others a second chance at a life they should have never had,
If anything he was not a hero, just a boy, but if anything a saviour.
A saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned.
Behind him, the one with the brown eyes and black hair.
The lip rings and the black gloves.
I saw only a dream behind his muddy eyes.
A dream he kept reaching out for, but never caught a hold of.
I looked up at the sky, something you can catch a hold of.
It always slips through your fingers.
You never completely have it, and this was his dream.
What that dream was about, well that's past me.
But deep down he was the one who held the most sorrow.
For the world and himself.
He held the world on his shoulders.
He always felt misery, and late at night when his 4 friends where gone,
he was the one to cry himself to sleep.
He was to depressing, I couldn't stand reading him anymore.
My gaze flickered to the one on the other side of the saviour.
The one with brown hair and brown eyes.
No piercings, just the same black suit, he looked so dull,
but an extra-ordinary life lay in his background.
Yes, indeed.
He was the one who talked to each and every person they gave a second chance.
He was the one to comfort the people and tell them they would soon be happy.
That they would soon be in a place where nothing bad or evil could ever touch them.
If he was lieing, I had no clue.
But he had done it so many times, I doubt he was lieing.
I bet he had faith in his friends and himself.
The one in the background, with the redish-orange afro.
He looked evil and looked full of hatred and anger.
But looking into his past, I found out why.
I found out why he was in this little operation.
He had lost his family, his love.
He joined these people to make sure this never again happened to anyone else.
To make sure they got another chance at love, at their life.
This one brought a smile to my face as the wind began to blow.
I looked over as brown, dull leaves fluttered in the wind.
My eyes finally rested on the last man.
Blonde hair and a lip ring.
He was the muscle behind this group.
He helped them get to places they couldn't.
He helped them get to the people they where after.
He was the burly one.
the muscle.
He was also the one with the most peace, oddly.
He was centered and was wise.
He told the others when they were wrong
He told the other when there was a better route.
He kept the peace, the tranquilty.
He was the one to help the most.
As the saviour, not not the hero, the boy stretched his black glove hand out to me and said, "Let us help you, please. Come with us." I knew I was in good hands. I reached my pale, ice cold hand out to his and took it, grasping it tightly. A smile stretched across his face, an eerie one, but still I knew this was my second chance. And I knew they would make sure I was happy when it all ended.