Passive boy, he lingers in
Long, late night hours and wonders
About all the good in life,
And where it's been going,
Or where it lies.

So his daylight is laborious;
His nights, a seclusion in fractions;
Particular points about people
And their lives.

Some are quick to disguise. Some
Are so hidden they do not realize
What they've become. Some are straight,
And never waver from their
Beautiful roots of blind bravery.
They can see what I cannot see.

There is no formula, I'm convinced.
Not for this waylaid bunch of misfits
Running about this tattered world.
And He wonders all of this,
Looking for answers, finding riddles.

Passive, perched on a post to see
The best, and gain a vision. A small
Accumulation of some truth,
Some answer to this mess.