Hidden from the world for days uncounted.
The monkeys don’t know where he is hiding.
Maybe he’ll emerge when the sun comes out.
Perpetual dawn, he’s scared of shadows.
They haunt him like memories, unchosen.
He sits cross-legged, sweeping piles of sand.
Blows them into dust with a smack of hand.
A hand extended to help, sinking low.
Outstretched fingers, nothing clasped, nothingness.
Returns to his bottomless pit and cries.
“If they’re not needed, I can cut them off.”
His hands, his only friends, now they’re gone, too.
Sanctified yet unholy, reject faith.
Accept no fate that you did not create.
Now he walks through the jungle, lost and found.
Historied battles, I thought we had won?
Yet he still walks alone, aiming his gun.
So much evil, can’t purify their sins.
Wreaking havoc on the victims again.
Take no more, but give even less. Shut down.
They can’t beat you, find your hole in the ground.
Ages upon eons, never come back.
There is no love, no change, no victory.
Presence of mind to end life and himself.