A boy walked down an empty street,
The stars glimmering above him,
He let his heart guide his feet,
His mind numb from the cold.

He stumbled along the abandoned land,
Closing his eyes and humming a musical tune,
He knew this place like the back of his hand.

He found the twisted tree,
And climbed one branch at a time,
He climbed until he was free.
Until he was the king at the top of the leaves.

He held his heart in his pale hands,
Raising it to the moon,
Bandages and plasters covered the red,
He knew it would break very soon.

He looked at the piece of him,
His breath making a ghostly blanket around his mind,
He knew one day the enemies would win,
But he still he smiled.

His eyes showing the pain he had felt,
His mind holding the demons of his world,
Still his red lips curved upwards,
As the coldness made him melt.

He was home in his tree,
Home, where he was king,
Home to be free,
Home to be the little boy he felt inside.

The prince who wore a crown inside his rib cage.
The warrior who defended his dreams,
The boy who sang to calm his rage.
The king who fought for his crown.

So as he looked up at the stars that night,
His broken heart in his palms,
He remembers that even in the darkest sky's:
There is some light.