Reduced

Reduced

may not sound like it should.

Squirming 

beneath the skin of a man,

whose day ends 

stronger than it begins.

Reduced to war and

squander strong,

pillaging more.

Beneath my living breathing skin

I am reduced 

and should it sound

like nothing that you’ve sang.

Fear not with everything you’ve lost.

You’ll learn the cost when found again,

Sunbathed in thought,

among the shore, 

and lapping wakes.

Beneath my living breathing skin

Reduction 

breeds a strange contempt

Its friction 

feeds and stirs and bleeds

A soul 

long waking now it seems 

The shore that breaths 

now ashes more,

time mumbling a song

It’s one you’ve wrote, 

You’ve sung.

You’ve saved.

Beneath my ever living skin