Tuesday, May 6, 2008

a chink in perfect

cracks my armor
what was once smooth solid
is now shattered unstable, rough

- soft -

words in a song pierce
like high speed rounds
the armor of this shell

and now wond'ring
why I wear it,
seems restrictive

without it feel wounded,
something thick seeps
redly in its disused heaps

- crawl -

out emerge from it
no scab nor scar forms,
wound not weakness

battle long gone
from a field seen clear,
time for rest is here

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