Handshake

[Drsmith4]

I'm a poet, and my poems are sort of like treasures to me, but I figured I could donate this one - - and old one.



That stale departure left you shaken cold
By dueling with that soldier dubbed as Fate.
Man, they shook you. Man, they picked your pockets
Clean, and then deserted you, old martyr,
Victimized and groomed you to dwell
In lands of gritty soil and slate.
Do you think you survived all your troubles of late?
Do you think you can try not to give in to hate?
Do you think you can look me square in the eye
And with a firm grip take a hold on my hand?
If you think that you can, then give it a shake.
When the moon shines at night to light up your hair
I am struck by surprise to see no angel is there.
What now resides besides these wiry thin locks
That try so hard to hide your metallic ghostly eyes,
Behind which lies a fractured glass box?
Do you think you can swim through this fierce hurricane?
Do you think you can win at this cynical game?
Do you think that your skin can rid its deep scars and stains?
If you truly believe that it can,
If you think you can rise to be grand,
Then, man, please accept my hand and give it a shake.