Deja Vu

A couple of years ago when I was to young to understand.
A man came to me with his heart in his hands.
He wore a mask of sorrow as tears filled his eyes.
He was a mystery to me.
What could make a grown man cry?
He was all shaken up with hands that were so unsteady.
He came to me to let me know that for real love he was ready.
At a lost for words I didn't know what to say.
I just listened, because of his condition I couldn't just turn him away.
As he explained himself, his hopes and dreams,
in my untrained mind desperate is how he seemed.
He wasn't desperate at all.
At that time I couldn't feel his pain.
Until one day, like him, I felt the same.