He bowed down in his palace of drywall,
with the taste of metal of his tongue
and it's rust on his knuckles,
when he remembered the babes in the badly made crib.
He remembered the sobbing, thin woman
who wore his band on her finger.
He remembered the little one hiding behind a wall of comfort.
He remembered the eldest lying
in a sea of destruction.
In one big moment, he roared like
his father before him.
And suddenly,
he couldn't remember anything at all.
