When shells tarnish and crack

A week away
A soldier on leave
The soft finger tips
The smooth curves of a sculpted innocence

Although we stand on an edge
and we may fall
We’ll stand and rise taller than before
The feeling growing within

The smoldering fire between the folds of skin
Behind the organ, even the heart
The infinite tunneling to the inner being
The only reality in an artificial
The holy inner being
Screams out your name
Our savior

When I’m chained to the wall
When the eyes are drawn over and the mouth
A distorted orange peel
No one pleads to him like you
I restrain
My brain and heart rots
But you keep it from deterioration

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