He wore no cloak but a suit,
and always acts its business as usual,
He comes as silent as the dark night without moon or stars,
A night without even headlights from a moving car,
He would come knocking though most times surprising,
Like meeting an old friend from a sidewalk.
He loves dealing with people who smile a lot, dreaming of their past,
For those he thinks are the fulfilled ones, and the best to talk about anything,
On the other hand he hates people who lets their emotion take control.
He’s a serious being facing everyone with confidence though with remorse,
I wonder if he cries, watching a kid die,
I wonder if he dies watching a kid cry,
After death, himself, dealt with the kid’s mom.
There comes a time we call for him,
Wishing he would just come,
To take away the pain,
Fast and instant.
But he would not come,
Because behind those tears, behind those cry of pain,
He still believes that we are happy with what life gives.
Many tried to be with him,
And many think they are with him,
But in reality not one of us is with.
Because everyone he meets leaves him,
Knowing that we are not his to own.
Sometimes he wonders if we can really understand him, and sees that he’s done,
That he’s also a being with a pain of his own.
Sometimes he wonders if his work is worth it,
And that if ever it will end.
But whatever we do, he tries to be fair,
Weighing everything before judging,
And that sometimes he felt something,
And just the thought of it, is enough for him,
That feeling that we all, are secretly in love with him.