Speak of...

Before this man is forgotten and his lies have become immortal,
Before he wakes up from a dream where he had lived,
Speak of his anger, of times when the soul clenched onto the fingernails and scars were deeper than birthmarks
while victories would fight defeats struggling to find their reasons to be,
Speak of his love, speak of balloons pumped with promises tied to a few autumn leaves,
And if you would hold his hand long enough, you might just be able to touch his heart dangling on the sleeves,
Speak of his tears, carving a path leading to conclusions and looking for shoulders to leave impressions on,
of  craters of pain that time failed to fill, of a time when the sand clock had come to a standstill.
Speak of the rights and the wrongs, speak of being guilty and free,
Tell them he was guilty when he fought his wars,
Tell them he loved not right but his wasn't supposed to be.... 


-Shubit
(Inspired by Carvens Lissaint - Tell them)