Veteran

Black polished boots stomp along the crumbling pavement.
Eyes focused tearing from painful memories. salted drops stinging cracked battle hardened flesh on cheeks of distraute, emotionally wrenched faces.

Mixed Expressions look on.
Confused intentions mixed to make a cunconction of incubating hate in pure hearts of gold turn cold.
Many sold thier life to a bottle to feel hallow and rott in sorrow.
To a life of crime dayz spent doin time.
Some break the shakles that bind thier minds trudjing throw brow high debris of a shattered conviction to float somewhere between the clutter and forever.

Baloons pop awakening dorment visions of horror seared into thoughts with the intensity of a branding iron against soft glowing flesh. The open hearts of others mend the festering wounds as plentiful on the soul as spores on a month old loaf of bread.

A fit of rage is a cry for help from a being spent time in Hell on Earth.
Clawing desperatly at the walls of an infinite well of dispair, but still the light is there but seemingly immpossible to atain like a twinkeling star in the night sky light years away