twenty paces separate madness
from serenity.
he sits.
after a moment,
his woes gentley smolder
in twilight.
he takes time
to oil
his rusted senses.
and breathes deep
to let his barriers
release.
uncontrolably,
he sobs.
sweating fire
burns the ground
and salty eyes
retain water.
many rely on him.
few see him.
he's hardened and aptly
prepared,
but lets lose
briefly,
out of view.
only a moment
of reflection.
he gains his composure
and picks up
his angry
embers to sparkle
and ignite.
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