He is victim to nature's savagery.
Tears seeking wounds,
Malice, an epiphany.
His morning adorning his unfroward scorn,
His smile, a fractured and beautiful form.
He had prayed for stars to fall -
To crash and die, to give and burn.
He had held his finger to the sky,
And cursed the day that he was born.
I know of his love, for she, he wept.
"I am broken, too broken for her," he said.
Kneeling in sand, writing her name,
For wind and water to take to their graves.
It was always us, the deck, and cigarettes.
Morning pills, and night-time meds.
And one day, finally, he spoke to me at last:
"Hey kid, don't grow up too fast."