Like eloquent vultures, tearing each other to scraps like its the most beautiful thing-cannibalism.

Realistically, there should be peace in the mortality of things...in the "ends" of things.
A salvation awaits at the edge, like toes over the rooftop ledge.
and a gust of wind to fly on.
It's the finality of these decisions that brings in the tides of clarity
filling tear ducts with sand.

Your stone boy emotions can't be read through the same stone faces unless you learn to read the language of silence.
And then he shines like glass in the sun
in shards but beautiful all the same.