Is life so kind as to pass him by,

Gentle hope that fades away,

That love so wished it cannot be true,

That wish it grew.

This wish it grew with every embrace,

With every cold look,

With every old crook,

That robbed society of its very hope,

Its very dream of future,

Of better,

This wish it grew,

Too large to meet reality,

It was that which blurred,

And a dream unheard,

Came to life in his words,

In his eyes,

In his mind.

It was on that night that this first happened,

It did,

Im sure,

Surprise him,

Because out of what were once his whispered words,

Came screams and shouts.

It took him years and years to work out,

He was not mad,

His personalities not split,

He was not making up for the quiet of his uneventful teenage years.

He was merely a man,

Too quiet before to show people what he really thought,

Who he really was,

Where he really wanted to be,

And so that night and ever since,

He told them,

He told everyone,

What he thought,

What he thought they thought,

He told them his dreams,

He told them his ambitions,

He told them his story so many times,

It could be told by everyone,

With eased fluency,

But all they ever said was,

He lived,

He didn't shy away,

He never regretted it.

And they say listening to the voices is bad,

I think it depends on what the voices are saying.