and there the fool lays
finally home
finally back
in the one
fortress of solitude
after so long away
the tortoise
ripped from the shell
to find a bucket
to hide in
from the rain.
and there the fool lays
unable to find
a position
to grasp onto sleep
he so desperately
seeks
in the comfort
of his own
lack of comfort
tossing turning
filled with ache.
and there the fool lays
at the cusp
of sleep
at the cusp
of tears
naked bared
for the silence
to pummel him
with velvet gloves
hiding iron fists
of sullen pain.
and there the fool lays
Sadly a great poem
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