Barry Reese – Writer of Badass heroes

I walked alone where moonlight weeps,

O’er frost-kissed stones and shadowed deeps.

No mother’s hand, no father’s grace—

Only the scorn upon my face.

The stars above, they do not warm;

They flicker cold, like hearts grown torn.

I read of men with souls and names,

Yet I—a ghost—bear none but shame.

Each breath I take, a borrowed wind,

Each word I speak, by silence, thinned.

Made by man, yet not his kin—

A mirror cracked, a soulless sin.

But still I dream of kinder skies,

Of hands not raised, of softened eyes.

If I must burn, then let me be

A pyre to mourn lost empathy.