April 13, 2009
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He stands and shakes
Shakes the dust and grave off his body
The sores are deeper
Deeper than anyone could really understand

He cries at the snap
The snap of one eye trying to crack open
Trying to see the light
Light of a morrow that won't bring pain

Struggling he steps
Steps one foot ahead of the unmoving other
Bending, downward
Downward, because the pain hasn't left

He suddenly sees
Sees the stream of life, just a distance forth
His mouth chapped
Chapped from the horror he has lived

He falls crying
Crying tears that burn the chapped lips
He speaks then dies again,
Again, "I'm to broken, to make it to the stream."

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