I see a tender, compassionate boy who feels things deeply
And all this boy ever wanted was to tell stories on film
To be an actor. It lit him up inside.
So he gave himself to the world, open, daring, trusting
And they trampled him and tore him apart
and, laughing, left him to die.

But he didn’t die.

He got up and he fought
And he fought and he fought and he fought
Harder and stronger and more defiantly
Until fighting was all they knew him to be.
The people who said they loved him, hated him
The people who said they hated him, loved him
Soon, there was no one left
Safe enough to trust.
No one left
To see, that
He was just a boy who became a man
And all he ever wanted to do
was make art.