A Year of Poems – Day 231

Calloused hands
Skin hardened to prevent harm
Chiseled face
The chisel slipped a couple times
This is no David,
Poised to fight for right,
This bottled motion is unreadable
Obscured behind tinted glass
And a thick metal lid.
The tattooed label
Tells more than his mouth ever will,
Both Reveal nothing.

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