These wounds will not heal
Consuming, controlling
Searching edges in the dark
Spewing words, extolling
Thoughts raging; the rant
Upon deaf ears fallen phrases
Polite nods walking away
Bowed heads increased paces
Hobbling and falling behind
I watch the passing ground
Where I used to run and skip
Until life and time slowed me down
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 