A Walking Memory

Rain fell like bullets on the ground
crushing crystal clear tears rolling off the young mans cheek
every droplet thunderous in the desolate tundra of his inner sanctum
His innocence had been abstractly obstinate
But was stripped from him, like clothing
a barrage of seemingly benign words left him bare
erratic emotions emerged in his dangerous thoughts
of the futility of finalization
His abused body was anonymous
But his memories were the tape recorder of his night terrors

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