Male Sadness Homeless Person Bullied Alone Hiding

There are ramparts
To every man, forged with time
Impenetrable, the front of his fortress.

Then there are happy places
Chiseled in memory, the crossroads with the
Knee-high roses and the head-high
Fields of gold; Barley, Maize even Sunflowers.

Then there are the mushy walls
Around my drifting heart, laid in Kleenex
Where the tide flows and ebbs
– even soaking – depositing
The many salts of yesteryear
In all their timelessness

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