With the heavy scent of salt
and the sound of marching boots
My gravity defying tears
climb the hill of raw anguish
I do not cry through weakness
this military movement is one of vigor
When puddles form on the summit
revealing reflective skies abound
A Sun of optimism shall fall captive
held by the sticky film of my hurt
I will pilferage the energy
suck dry the atomic seed
My journey home
down the winding slope
Will be one free of pain
and my strength reconfirmed
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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