Poem: Aggregation

A poem in summation

The soul is our strength,
through its very vulnerability —
he was bulletproof, psychologically
bereft; spiritually bankrupt

writing emotional blank checks.
By the end, there was nothing left.
He was bulletproof, or so he’d
like to say, but his words held

no truth. His words were water
through fingers. His grasp forever
slipping. That sadness profound.
The madness even more terrifying.

His soul never present.
And never to be found.