Within a hollow chest
beats his ragged heart.
Starved for affection, touch, love,
for things denied
the beast he is.
Knowing inside
he is not
as he should be,
all he could be.
Listening to the singing,
watching the dancing,
living a world apart,
where his voice is not
wanted,
his body is not
beloved,
a horror show
of misspent desire.
Starving for comfort, connection,
he reaches out with hands
that have only ever learned
to be weapons;
how can he be
expected to be gentle,
when one of the feelings
exerted on his missing heart
has never been mercy?