My friend

In the shadows of a fortress, in the corridors of mossy oaks...
sits a man of misery, a man of sorrow, a man who is a ghost.
He protects his prison with all his might; from the slightest ray of light.
In his prison;he is safe here. Nothing grows here, nothing withers.
I wonder from above just what he is protecting, or rather hiding.
The entire world lays just slightly beyond this fortress...
as does the light, and everything worth living for.
But out there he may have to face his own shadow,
and so he slouches in darkness, feeling content and no more.
Little does he know, he wasted it.
And his chance? He never did take it...
He remained there; and he died there.
The whole time unaware, the from out far I watched
and my heart broke; he was loved. And he was never truly alone.