The calloused hands of the past,
Through events construct a man,
A metal heart pumps his blood,
While the past controls his hand,
It seems his skin is made of steel,
To help protect him from any pain,
And as the days slowly pass,
More steel is what he gains.
Though he is a mortal man,
His countenance holds inner joy,
And with his efforts to protect himself,
His heart now just a toy,
And though the metal protects him,
The steel is prone to rust,
And wrapped in this steel armor,
There’s no reason left to trust.
On those days when tears are shed,
The tears cause rusty streaks,
But unfortunately for the now metal man,
With the rust he no longer speaks,
His voice calls out for only one,
And it echoes in this metal shell,
With the pieces of his beating heart,
The only sound he hears in hell.
Though he’s now in steel armor,
And that armor’s rust stained and red,
The armor’s now an uncomfortable home,
Because without you, inside he’s dead,
Though you might think the armor a prison,
Its his purpose that now is steel,
And the thing that steels his purpose,
Are the memories he still feels.
The memories are the rivets,
That connect each steel piece,
And love becomes the armor,
And now his purpose is shown at least,
This emotion is now his shield,
And within the steel its his lucky charm,
And while I hold to only you,
In the future, there’s no harm.
I found you.