He seemed like and empty shell.
All around tough guy.
Never categorized.
Drifting.

He seemed as if
there was nothing inside.
No emotions behind
His eyes.
Nothing but a
colored mohawk,
band tee shirts,
and ripped jeans.
But not all,
is what it seems.

Behind those eyes are secrets,
under the skin a haunted past.
And I have come to learn
that his façade won’t always last.

I’ve seen him cry
an ocean of tears,
heard him spill all his fears.
Watched him struggle,
yet carry on.
And I learned a lot
I’d never known.

He has crawled inside himself,
He has hidden behind himself
He has tried to be strong
He has carried on

He isn’t just ripped jeans.
He is n
nowhere,
not close,
to what he seems,

For perfect, is only skin deep.