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| Picture Here |
Some men's lives
Are printed in the skin
In crowsfeet and crevasses,
In the weary knowing slant
Of shielded eyes,
Chapters indelibly written
Scrawled in the dark
By life, by choices,
By all that's hidden beneath the flesh,
By what's been broken and healed over,
Unhealed and neglected,
Praised in the light
And dishonoered in the darkness
Until the tattered canvas
Can no longer hold the paint.
