As he looked her in the eyes,
and spoke to her his words,
she only heard the words,
that were lingering in her head.
As if the words transformed themselves,
into what she wanted him to say.
He told her he'd be honest,
he wouldn't hold back.
Still what she's understanding is the fact
that he's afraid.
She can see past his eyes,
deep into his soul,
so distant and uncertain,
so dark and weary.
Though he doeasn't speak it,
she knows that she's the one.
The only one to ease his mind and free his soul.
The only one to bring him out to face this world.
What he's saying is not all that he is feeling.
She knows him better that he knows himself.
He doesn't know himself,
who he is, or how he feels.
He knows what he is told,
and what he needs to do.
But he can't do it alone.
He's always had a crutch,
and an extra one, just incase,
to feel secure with his ways.
A reassurance that his way is the right way.
That whatever gives him comfort,
should be his only choice.
To do what makes him and happy,
and not what is right.
To encourage his decisions,
of living a sheltered life.
No responsibilities, no focus, no goal,
but always with that crutch he holds, so tight.
Never to be alone, never to face the world.