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Published: 2013-11-27 20:08:51 +0000 UTC; Views: 510; Favourites: 5; Downloads: 0
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He shied away from my pick of might,
A look of fear, confusion and fright.
The wounds that showed beneath his cloth.
The only thing he 'knew' ... his name? Xephos?
And the way it swirled and mixed and changed,
And the hurtful screams of tortured pain.
Sympathy I feel for this hurt soul,
Always scarred down right to his bones.
But the health that I could not bestow,
'I'll do it right, give him a home.'
His clothes were strange, red, black and gold,
His pale skin, bruised and cut and cold.
Big sad eyes, the brightest blue,
He was lost ... that much I knew.
He had collapsed, a while down the road,
I placed his arm over my shoulder, and towed.
Even though I couldn't mend his hurt,
I could tend his wounds, fix his shirt.
As I layed him down on my hay filled mat,
I looked at him and the I sat.
By his bed 'til morn' then came,
And just one question, what was his name?
I cooked him some meat for when he awoke,
And watched in sadness as he choked,
Choked back his tears, his memories were gone.
I called him friend, explain, in his eyes a glimmer shone.
He asked who I was, but I could not understand,
He seemed to be, from another land.
I shook my head in dismay,
He looked down and clicked his badge, and spoke again.
His voice was deep and charming and kind,
But did not mask, he pain in his eyes.
I named him Xephos, we became great friends,
We fought beast and foe, to their bitter ends.
But even now, when I look in his yes,
A piece of the man I don't recognise.
The part of him he left behind,
The part of him, off in the skies.
The man from the stars, that burst from the black,
But I could never, give that man back...