Dry trails of previous wet tears on his pale white face.

Green eyes that used to be bright are now tired and worrisome.

Stubble on his face that ages him years from how old he really is.

Dark hair that is a tad to long begs to be cut.

His lean muscular figure looks as If its begging to be fed.

But he doesn’t move.

He stays sitting on the sand of the beach with his hands clutched together on his bent knees.

His sits quietly listening the soft “swoosh” of the waves as they come in and out.

He feels the light breeze as it chills his skin.

He smells the salty ocean air.

And yet none of this heals him.

What use to be relaxing is now something as painful as having a root canal.

Thoughts swirl round and round in his head begging to be vocalized.

But he just continues to sit.

Unmoved, silent, and lonely without a clue of where to go and what to do next.

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