In darkened chambers nigh midnight, sat upon the sill,
He looked and saw the world below, dwelling at its will.
silently without judgment, he sat and watched them be,
wishing now in his heart, like them he could be free.
High atop the this concrete tower, he watched it all go by,
more than once, wish-ed he, that someday he might fly.
To soar and drift like the grey doves do, higher, higher, higher,
then come to rest ones weary wings, aloft a chapel spire.
Oh to live a life of freedom, to live one’s life careless,
instead of one filled with pain, one filled with happiness.
but fixed in place high atop, this ugly concrete tower,
he has taught himself to find, happiness in a flower.
Solitude his burden true, carried like a weight,
whilst silently he carries on, as he awaits his fate.
this cancer comes to take his body but will not get his soul,
to die alone with dignity, now his only goal.
But the loneliness get tiresome, and the fight ahead undone,
so beside him in this chair I sit, because I am his son.
