128 – Unbowed

Sliding in and out
Of sleazy bars
And one-night refuges.

Never once believing
In that thing they call

Living day-to-day
With nothing left to lose,
No gods, no high ideals
No ancient magic.

Slamming head-first
Into the harsh wall of reality.

No faith to cushion him.

No dreams to heal his wounds.

Bare knuckles
And pure stubbornness
Are all that keep him going.

Still, his bloody lips
Can’t help but smile.
His eyes are clear,
And always open.

The ultimate skeptic,
Staring in the face
Of raw and naked pain.

He wouldn’t have it
Any other way.

• • •

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