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