NOTHING LEFT TO BURN AND NOTHING LEFT TO PROVE

as tough as I was I crumbled on the ICU floor as much as he loomed so large and unforgiving only laid out, looking bad except for his dignity which is mostly what I remember about him on that day, this man who couldn’t give me what he never got himself he looked like an eagle lying there he would’ve liked that a bird in mid-flight the gray in his hair like silver in his wings his broad face and broke Irish nose his proud jaw set flying up into the greatest sky against the wind.

𝑆𝑈𝐵𝑆𝐶𝑅𝐼𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝐽𝐼𝑀 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅’𝑆 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑀 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐸𝐸𝐾

𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐸, 𝐽𝐼𝑀 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅’𝑆 8𝑇𝐻 𝐹𝑈𝐿𝐿-𝐿𝐸𝑁𝐺𝑇𝐻 𝐶𝑂𝐿𝐿𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑇𝑅𝑌, 𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝐴𝑉𝐴𝐼𝐿𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑇 𝐽𝐼𝑀𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅.𝑁𝐸𝑇

𝑆𝑈𝑃𝑃𝑂𝑅𝑇 𝐽𝐼𝑀 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑅’𝑆 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝑆𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿 𝐽𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑁𝐴𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑀 𝑊𝐼𝑇𝐻 𝐴𝐶𝐶𝐸𝑆𝑆 𝑇𝑂 𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑇𝑅𝑌 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝑆𝑂𝑁𝐺𝑆, 2 𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑀𝑆 𝐴 𝑀𝑂𝑁𝑇𝐻, 𝐿𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑅𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐴 𝑊𝐸𝐸𝐾𝐿𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝐿𝑈𝑀𝑁

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