Poetry

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Armor of the Young

written by: Mike Basile

Peel away, from my composition,
my many layers with careful fission.
When slowly deriving what is me,
your exhausting work will leave debris.
For to each of my components,
there are ten more proponents
of which I've yielded over time,
whether through valor or through crime.
In many platings I've encased myself,
please place each gently up on the shelf.
For no longer do I bear need for protection,
and you'll uncover more within each new section.

Remove the layer that is first,
and inside you'll find for what I thirst.
Peering upon my ambitions laid bare,
forever shall your innocence die there.

Dismantle that on me which is second,
and beneath you shall find what you reckoned.
All of that which kept me going on,
my loves, losses, pleasures, and spawn.

Take away the layer which is third,
and you'll realize things that never, to you, occurred.
The secrets I harbored, whether dark or light,
that too my conscious were a great blight.

If you manage to reach the layer of four,
you will discover worthy things to abhor.
For it contains my darkest sins and pleasures,
of which to hide from the world I took great measures.

You may continue on for months or years,
discovering both my hopes and fears,
but you will know when you've reached my core-
ravaged both by love and war.
For there you will find, out of all armor,
a sight to the eye that is terribly somber.
A naked child, will be all that's there.
Beaten and bruised; dead in despair.
For that is what we are when everything ends,
when everything we've known breaks and bends.
Helpless children, smitten by time,
who were forced to slave through life's endless grime.

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