On the outside looking in he imagines himself strong.
Weakness is a figment; his imagination gone wrong.
Drawing strength from those around him,
he winds down
closing into her,
withering with masses she dawns glasses
protecting her tears, falling for him.
The seams broke loose long ago
during the vicious cycles of yesteryears delights.
Information is her only friend;
solace remains attainable then.
Into the arms of another she finds clarity.
The mechanics of shame bend into whim,
dieing and crying, screwing his sin.
The tears won’t manifest although she tries.
Trying is just trying.
To try is to dream.
To dream is to die.
And dieing seems plausible when friends vanquish
and family is forsaken.
All you have is her.
And even she, is making mistakes.