Loss Kills the Man
Loss kills the man
Said the wind in the sand
For I am made with bones
Shells and remains of the children I home.
But I remain strongest
I endure the time that passes
With every scar, bruise and break,
I am still me.
But if I built myself
Replaced my parts
Destroyed the evidence of time
That threw itself on my heart
Will I always be myself?
I told the sand yes,
For it’s the soul that matters most.
The wind in the sand swirled and puffed
Look not at my body but my soul!
It exclaimed.
I had stared at its grains
The individual pieces that fell between my fingers
But I did not see its heart,
nor organs,
nor parts.
I asked the wind,
Where must I look if I cannot see your form?
The wind replied,
You did so naturally,
by following my voice.
Confused by its words I tossed and turned
In a bed of its childrens’ bones
The sand was scratchy,
Not what I thought
Not my impression
note to self: continue when not getting ass bitten by ghouls
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