The fallen hero.
He had a voice and used it...

A thrumming heart is heard
And his presence is the drummer...

Take my money and throw it to the sea,
Or my wealth and home in which I reside...

No one sees me.
A wandering eye sees rainbows and roses...

Tearing at my cheekbones and
Pulling on my hair...

Soft and touchable ebony hair,
Enticing blue eyes, and a thousand yard stare...

The weather feels like singing,
When greeted by the trees...

Last time I checked, I was seven years old.
A year of my life embroiled with gold...

The moon is cold
It holds the sharp glitter of a thousand souls...

Deep within the shadowlands,
Love half lies...

When we look into the past,
and all we see is sorrow...

It starts as a scintilla in my heart
And spreads...