She Speaks, Too

Eyes bright, back straight and tight Head held high, what a guy Detriment, excrement Wiping at the dust that's in your eye Shame, embarrassment Your pose is rather obvious A too large smile, a wracking laugh Mental storm tempestuous There's no way to hide Who you are inside Not very well Not for very long You can try To write your feelings down And turn your pain Into a song But can we take These angry Demons Trade horns for wings And angels make? Can we turn our ears From angry cries And do what's right For it's own sake? Can we light a lamp Of understanding Shedding light on mistakes That lie in our past? Can we hold To bright ideals of truth Lean on strength unseen Yet, a strength that lasts? Can we spear ahead Through ranks of doubt Arriving sound Of battles made? Can we tenaciously Seek dreams Whilst enemies hound And daylight fades? Can we ultimately Find peace Final words Having been said? We can! ...I think we can... Hearken to an angel's cry: She said, "Wasup?" And a smile bloomed on your face. And morning, though late, unfolded lightly in your heart, Even as demons raced to make her words dark. But she sits with me; she is there, presence comforting. She spoke because she saw my tears; wanting me to know that she was near. Thank you, my angel. I wish I knew your name.