His head would not stomp pounding, 

The beat stolen from his heart that would never be healed.

The lies were permanent. 

There was no reaching the soul that made them, 

No earthly power that could break that obstinacy, 

No caring in that heart. 

He’d loved and lost himself. 

He wished he could seal himself into a bottle

And cast himself into the sea, 

Hopefully to be found by one with care for mystery, 

And honesty, loyalty, … eventually,

Or to just drown.