A/N

I own nothing,

but a rhyme or two.

I don't earn money,

I write for myself

and, dear reader,

You.

He was too good for her.
Those Words hurt.
Was he really that bad?
That different?
He's not a perfect lad,
But those flaws he can mend.
Her hair, he wants to touch her.
She's the only right thing
In his life so blur.
He wants to cut her wings,
In case she'll want to leave.
But no, he cannot hurt her,
The thought itself makes him ill.
She likes his knowledge,
How much he knows about magic in life.
Little does she know about his life on edge,
Constant and painful strife.
Others say he's dark and Evil,
And she claims his heart is pure,
No one seems to believe her,
In his goodness they're not sure.
Look at his obsidian eyes,
Now look at her's green.
The difference is easy to realize,
And the darkness he lives in.
Look at his hair, look at him write.
Where's is going now?
There he is, surrounded with night,
Mean looking, like a crow.
How can she still talk to him?
Look at his friends.
They may be ambitious, cunning
And know how to achieve their ends.
It's their loyalty that's questioned,
They've chosen the wrong path.
With the devil they walk hand in hand,
Not thinking about the aftermath.
She says he's not like them,
But they only believe their eyes.
They avoid him as much they can,
Fearing he'll catch them by surprise.
This was not the life he has chosen,
It was meant for him to be.
He has the enemies as his friends,
Because they're the only one that don't hate him.