Three years lost.
Forgotten sin.
The color washed,
From soaking skin,
Robbed by the rains
Of Mauritania. --
A young man's pains
Carelessly lain 'ere,
Against the pole,
A broken wreck;
Never quite whole,
A mess of death.
To fix it - a chore,
My stomach wretched,
A soul no more,
His fate now etched.
His things on the grass,
As lost as he.
Torn steel and glass,
Still haunting me.
In the rain,
They left him there,
The empty body,
Of Justin Clare.
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