“rage”

shoulders once strong

once holding her gently

once hoping for bright small things

now curling forward

pressed against the rain

beating down on his unfeeling head

soldiering onward carrying

years of shattered life

carrying memories as heavy as gravestones

as fragile as glass

sharp-edged

his hands bleed into the soiled rain

from gripping so tightly these last reminders

of feeling something so fresh as sorrow

sweet like springtime

and the smell of corn

hopeful as it rises

baked from brown earth and tender hands

hands that fit together

hands rough and full of flowers

hands that caressed smooth young trees

he sloshes through mud

searching listless for something to fill his stomach

he is a bottle that used to hold dreams

ready and brave to sail a million shining oceans

bobbing carefree until it reaches some glittering shore

now the dreams read over

the paper dingy and dull

dirty calloused fingers took out the slip of future until every wisp of magic

wore away

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