Wrapped around and clean Of the woes to a dismal paradise That left you weeping On a tombstone, tempered by your sorrows, Yet rusted by the leaving heart. I will hold what is left In golden palms, Loving psalms, Attach a rope to your feet, With a cuff to your wrists To keep you captivated. I will keep you nurtured Against the wars of your mind, Not leaving you to the walls Lined with the scars of loss, Bloody loss. You are beautiful to the eyes Of a man with nothing more to despise, Little one. You have yearnings echoing from within, As nothing I can leave you in. Your morbid cries I once heard you hurl forth To the winds of your paradise Is something not ideal to the storm of life, Not for the halo I shall set atop your brow As the jeweled crown of your ease.