The marks of war
with despair,
ignorance,
and the lack of reason for forgetting.
The numbing shame of despair,
and the vestiges
of what we thought to be.
the lines of the hand,
the twists of fate,
the whims of an unseemly chance.
Everything seems to be the same
even the futile traces of lost passion. A naked truth audits us.
a stark heart
question our souls,
his silence,
his arrogant empathy of not telling secrets.
Footprint marks that bury themselves deep
that hurt like sores
that remind of past wars
that give off pain
And they make you think stop being yourself
Marks in dark corners
on lost trails
deserted estuaries
that cloud the mind
When do they start, where do they end?
I want to go through them all
slowly
genuine
Without fear
With gallantry.
It's the only way
To learn from life.