Two Halves

What creates a man so fractured
That he only longs to break
A life so bent, prostrate and spiteful
It only means to fake
What draws the voracious wolf
From sound, un-repining slumber
Brought to Plutonic rage
Amidst the unforgiving thunder
What makes cracked, the noble human visage
Two halves an infernal whole
Paper pale in it’s mirror
Eternally perforated at it’s fold
How can he be this way
What I long to hold up in honor
Drawn down to burn my adoring heart
In misguided paternal candor
Oh, Spirit, am I to be a reflection
Leaving innocent tongues to hold still in deception