Not a warrior
There’s magic beneath his eyes,sometimes dark, sometimes white,a spell that binds,or a spell that hides.
There’s a fight inside his heartbeating like a drum (of war).It goes on and on,another victim, another body dropped.
And it hurts to knowthat he won’t winbecause he’s fighting alone.
But I found myselfagain under his spellstrying to see, trying to help.
There’s warmth coming from his hands,sometimes slow, sometimes fast,a touch that burns,and a touch that calms.
There’s so much inside...