the tragic figure

the tragic figure

give us a hero

someone to shout

into the questions

that leave us with doubt

into the unknown mystery shroud

that covers the heavens

refusing to bow

to any of the unspoken

mumbling crowds

that gather their stones

and sharpen their plows

i spoke to the hero

unpacking my fears

disrobing the sins

i often conceal

he said

take heart my son

the coming dawn

is enough to drown the lies

your past is based on

enough to revive the organ

inside your skin

the beating reminder

that your life is a gift

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