"He" 

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Born was he
To dwell on misery
To magnify the little
And himself to belittle
To make those in his heart
The priority, and his heart
He gave not much opportunity
To dream; to melt
To weep in despair
Sometimes to accuse the almighty
Of not being fair
Had he had the world
A small part of it
To the troubled head
He would have offered it
But he has only his love
And a bunch of dreams
And the troubled head is,
Now more troubled than ever
Hamlet in his indecisiveness
Torn apart and tortured
By the ghosts he sees.
Told was he

Love is not enough
And what you expect
Is not always what,
You would see
Help is offered to those,
Who ask for it
And he has been offering,
Embraces, to a hand
That refuses to hold his
Born was he
To a purpose untold
To cast change
To be changed
Happiness unaccomplished
Spring refusing to stay
Poetry does not describe
What he really feels
In a parallel dimension
He lit a cigarette
And by the pool
Tears ruined the eyeliner
Of the masks he wears
Dancing in his imagination
Moves he wouldn’t dare,
To perform in reality
High he jumps
High he dreams
High hope
And low screams.