Soothe

“We’re gonna be fine”, he says in small hours…
In protest to worry that all can sour.

His buttress against life’s scary corners;
The murder of love by greedy scorners.

He cares enough to suffer in silence.
Following events; eyes peeled for violence.

Curated images of life aren’t real.
It’s a false smile cover, whilst both hands steal.

Worry grows heavy & hits its red line.
All he’s can say is, “We’re gonna be fine.”