Anchorite
A lonely odd man with a staff,
Surrounded by silence, he rambles in a forest.
His beard is thick and his hair is long,
a shabby old hat he carries on his head.
Guess he had just too odd taste,
in the ways of the opposite sex.
The ways of loving,
he deeply misses it.
He had such a great people around him,
he greeted them, he thanked them.
But still, he had something missing,
not outside, but inside.
He feels so empty over there,
tasting the blood, iron it is.
Like his heart should have been,
just pure iron and stone.
And when he tried to change it,
He opened his heart, but still,
he didn't live at the very moment.
Later on he just ended up regretting everything.
And in the very end,
everything is like it was before.
No-one really accomplished anything.
But they left tears behind
For the old man, himself.
So the man walks slowly,
into the forest he walks.
Alone, without fear
rambling there, just all alone.
An anchorite, he is.
