Saintly

The bitter taste of life

The broken soul of one who would never be a quitter

A back full of knives

Some older than you

Shredded dreams that no longer cause screams

The quiet acceptance of oblivion

A life misspent

A sinner who’ll never repent

The saint with bloody hands

Washing them the grains of sands

From the hours wasted upon the shores of futility

The fight that would not end

The war he could not win

The battle he never lost

Yet he always paid for the cost

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