Broken Cups

I didn’t look at him

I looked into him

 

I saw a multilayered wall

ready to collapse and bury me

 

He carried years of rage ready to erupt

white as hot coals

 

His face a deceptive mask

his words riddles upon riddles

 

Eyes that pleaded to be rescued

lips that spoke no truth

 

What is the point, it is this

don’t sip from broken cups

 

I cannot tell you what his aim was

but remaining would be my devastation

 

We all met these types before

broken, damaged in need of repair

 

Leaving behind them a wake

of the walking dead