his hood down. All black face mask.
Motor screaming a thumping rasp.
Sparks fly as molten metal flows.
Orange and red it glows,turning brown as slag grows cold.
He looks solid but the mans about to fold.
His story about to be told.

This Every man's man.Solo for too long he ran.
Just him and folks made from the same brand.
Lost to this land somewhere between worlds he stands.
But still respect and loyalty he demands if not commands.

His eyes are burnt, his mind is mush.
Face flush,heart crushed like scrap cut in a rush.
Always going. hatreds growing. Anger creeps.
As invert seeps from broken welds.
Remembering those he felled.
Yet strangely still to live and love he's compelled.

That dark tint glass.
Lights up like his eyes after a pull from his flask.
we didn't smell the gas.
It was a dangerous task.
All they could find was that all black face mask.