his craggy exterior
carefully erected to
hide the emotions
raging in his molten core
a constant struggle
with the things
he feels so deeply
against the icy winds
of blank dismissals
everyday is a struggle
when he cannot tell
the difference between
abject miseries calling
and objective denials
to a reciprocation of
swirling blades
slicing crevices into
his dented armor
so hastily cobbled together
from the remnants of
lightning strikes
as he charged foolishly
into battles in which
he was never a threat
less a volcanic force
more an enflamed rash
itching and burning in
an unrelenting fury
of outside forces
tearing him to pieces
cascading boulders
infused with self loathing
crumbling into the
furiously frothing waters
to settle forgotten
silt at the bottom of
the river lethe

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