He walks upon broken glass
yet a cut he does not get
he walks the coals of fires gone
yet blisters he has none as of yet
dancing in the tears of angels
when others aren’t watching much
this moisture the gift of the world
and he revels in it's cool touch
He hides in darkest night
and wonders when the dawn will light
his soul shrinking from those around
yet drawn out by the words abound
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