He was splintered and winnowed and taken apart
to get down to the quick of his core.
Still he looks for the failures and flaws in the heart
of the one left for dead on the floor.
He is missing a light to shine through the cracks.
His sight has been warped and he's blind to the black.
There's no rest, no solace, no closeness here.
He would boil his blood to be rid of the fear.
Too fragile, and yet too staid.
Too rattled, and yet too brave.
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