His pain rang out like cymbals
being thrown against the bricks of the house
he tirelessly built
on a foundation of mistrust
and gravel.
His mouth moved, voiceless
a cry for assistance
in the bleakness of civil strife,
words uttered in empty rooms
crowded with the faces of people he’d lost.
His hand reached for a glass,
a woman, a door, a place
he knew felt like heaven on earth,
a place where he finally felt safe
from the screaming
and ice cold glare
of the television, as it flickered
and muttered
in the background.
A colourful silence
in which he was engrossed,
to drown out the din.
Wow?
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Wow!!
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Thank you! ❤️
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