by Carrie Michael
And
my hand is not strong
Enough
to erase the smudges and
Squeak
clean on his windows.
I
see the dimness of his eyes
Feel
the failure escape his skin
Take
it on as my own blame
As
he sits in his rainstorm
Howling
silently at his life
Hope
seemingly intangible.
When he sleeps
Innocence and exhaustion
Blanketing his face
I cry and ache and bleed for
him
And watch him intently
Hoping to see the answers that
Will redirect his soul
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