He was not him, today the day ended with a boom,
had walked aimlessly for hours in half fear and half hope.
Window filters a new moon.
It burns the pillow, wets the glass,
had he kissed goodbye to the glass house?
Tired of being a dwarf bridging the gap between hurts and animus.
The truth was only known to the deported.
Smoldering in the cauldron for years
he was never ripe for the plunge;
his kind refused to cling to straw for ever.
Wanted inner shength to stand against the shots,
to read the illegible words and pick up the dawn from falling stars.