The walls of the buildings were falling apart,

Streaked with asbestos and peeling paint.

The ceilings had caved in decades ago,

There were no more rooms to taint.

The neighborhood kids shied away from this place,

The neighborhood teens threw block parties here.

But the guardian held reverence for the buildings

And made these spots his career.

The neighborhood punks said he had lost his mind.

But I knew they were only afraid.

He is the guardian of the abandoned, the lost,

The rusty, rejected, decayed.

Though the neighborhood families would gossip and talk,

The guardian paid them no heed.

Though they called him morbid, and they called him strange,

He kept silence as his creed.

Throughout his journey, throughout his life,

He sacrificed everything for the voiceless.

The guardian is now what he set out to become:

A leader for the choiceless.