Blank Eyes

I finally saw it in his eyes today.

A defeated soldier waiting for the moment he perishes. A lost creature of a story that ended decades ago. Trying to find meaning in the mundane. Playing chance with life. Playing bets with all he's done. A man pushing his limits. His body now dying.

A man without love?

Or A man full of it?

I wish to know him when he was younger. I've spent quite some time around him, but not significant enough to understand him. I've heard stories about him but none could be his legends. A Mystery slipping away, a man just as misunderstood as me.

Somedays he's childish, somedays just empty, he's quiet, he's independent. He loves his garden to the point that it burns him, the same passion I inherited.

His lust for victories, his distance from people. Often wondered am I just him in a younger body?

Who does he think of when he's alone?

Does he wish to change something for the better?

His pain is unseen, Will it be enough to see it?

Cause I could feel this pain, hollowing his chest as nights fell.

As the world turns around him he's probably lost in a distant memory. The one of love, the one of dreams, the one that got away.