In order to find yourself, you must first be lost
I met a man with sadness in his eyes
His heart made stony from the relentlessness of loss.
His smooth skin an amour for the soft anguish he hid within
His gleaming smile and deep toned laugh a mask for what his face really said.
My body ached for his
Yet, everything he said had been said before
To someone else
Someone he liked more
Souls lost to the cogs of a machine
Production of soft toys
Taking in the pieces
Spitting out ragdolls
Left to unpick the stitching and replace the stuffing
Or maybe rocks