He walked with an uncomfortable stiffness

His limbs fused by the mistakes of the past,

Yet pride emanates from his words

And his scars are draped in fine silk.

His eyes are dry, red, and quick

His wit is as irritated.


May his legs be broken

And weakness and love reset his growth

And the dried lard casting his soul shatter

And Age go proper

Crawling in agony through the proper channels

And subtle strength restored.


Weep, child, weep

For thou hast been reborn


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s