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You sold yourself short.
They bought every word.
As thought they were beggars at the feast, of you.
With your blue as ice eyes.
Such a tragedy so wise beyond your years.
So full of realistic fears
You cried out loud in the night.
A pretty tantrum when they wouldn't let you fight.
But you were wrong and they were right, this time.
And I will watch you untangle this puzzle before you.
As you try to get their attention but they try to ignore you.
I can't get enough to fill myself up.
I could get drunk on the soul of the insulin poem of you.
Let's over flow.
Because I saw an angel in flight.
And I know I was right to believe.
And I will watch as you struggle with all that's inside you.
As you try not to move on with me standing beside you.
But if you sell yourself short.
Then they'll never know.
They'll write you off as the boy that you told them you'd be.
Yes you.
And those blue as ice eyes.
What a tragedy so wise beyond your years.
So full of realistic fears,
Let go. Abandon the fight.
Your pretty tantrum are a waste of what is right.
Reach out your hand and hold the night.
This Time.