On the right side of his body, you see flesh and bones.
Muscles hide under his skin,
And blood pumps through his veins.
A slight tan and multiple tattoos crawl up his arm.

On the left side, all you see is metal.
Pounds of steel hang from his limbs,
Like armor that’s been sitting in storage for decades.
Moving is impossible and
His hand lies in a tight fist;
His fingers stay still.

On the right side, life is impeccably painless,
Each aspect of life healthy and habitual.
Eating meals and writing notes is simple,
Just as it was ten years ago,
Before the armor took over.

On the left side, he is close to a statue.
Simply raising his arm takes all of his energy,
And walking from one room to the next
Seems like running a marathon.

On the right side, you see a man.
Nothing peculiar; a simple human.
One who has only aged,
In his forty-seven years.

On the left side, you see all man-made armor,
But something hides within.
Under all this tremendous weight is a man.
A man who has been trapped for ten years.

On the right side, you feel a sense of compassion,
For the man on the left.

On the left side, you feel a sense of envy,
For the man on the right.

On the right side, you see half of a soul.

On the left side, you must look close,
But eventually you’ll find the other half of that soul.