“for Benny,” by John Yamrus

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for Benny,

the
things he saw
were never just shadows
or ghosts, they were bigger than that,

so, he called them shadow ghosts,

and
the ones he saw
gave him no moral second chances.

it
was awful.

some nights,
he’d sit there in that chair,
and stare at them, and they’d stare back,

almost
daring him
to do something.

but,
he was powerless.
and, more than anything else,

he
knew that
suffering is endless
and will always last forever.

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