When I climb a top my tower,
I see it all, and feel relief.

Because,
Up there, It’s not so bad.
Up there, I am less bothered by the
Scandal and cruelty that,
I cannot eradicate.

Up there the raging wind
Stirs my tendrils of untamed hair
Into a nest of almost certainty.

Forcefully reminding me that,
We will all die, eventually.

We will all be dirt again.
Even the worst of them,
Will be be dirt again.
And there,
They can hurt no more.