In Memory of Dark Poet

A troubled soul he was, for stress took the best of his qualities that made people feel for him Disowned by his parents at a very young age Truly a lost soul, with no direction what so ever, an actor he was, as life itself is a stage Selfish to his own shadow, he believed he needed no one, for there was light in him even if it dimmed An extrovert soul he was, for he made friends just by a simple smile A leader, ideas in him were ugliness and yes, they were respected His speech, where to begin, he had the tone to move even stone, his ideas it protected A dreamer just like most of the world, he knew of God, yet he didn't follow Gods word His mind spoke, and spoke it did A fear in him always remembered him that God was watching his every verse And from it, with a sad face he did try to hide, little did he know that from God not a thought is hid Knowing of Him and idly standing by far is worse Strong firm eyes, color of brown they saw into many other souls and weary minds His eyes resemble that of a bursting star, expanding in vortex towards the outside Firm ears, a bit pointy in a way he heard very well, from trains to thoughts themselves Young and goal oriented he went about his life for the first twenty years, he walked lost, and with pride The hands of time slapped him again and again but he didn't awake The enemy had strong grasp of him, a soul that would not be easy to take He wrote of wars, ugliness in the world, death her self starred in his work Dark truly he was, for the thoughts that roamed in his humble mind, were not so good Brown hair, wavy and somewhat long, short he kept most of the time He wrote of his people and of his well doing, yet never of God For God gave him the power of speech and rhyme Yet always he bit into the cast of evils rod A light came unto his serious face, love left him to wonder in search of joy Away she stood, and he feeling empty searched for answers, to adulthood and to his infancy in a toy Who was he? Why did he have to try so hard to fit in? Of his sin He yearned to be loved and to love, but only God can fill that empty soul of his He wrote and wrote until his pen dried Inkless his pen fell He wept and wept until his soul to cried Along his shadows side he died - a dark soul I used to be, in denial I was Jesus is my king, he lifted me up from the dead Born again as Jeremiah, I was told in a dream I am no different that anyone else, He loves me too Seek Him, for He is LOVE.