Dismantled

Still disabled
But I don’t like that term,
Too bad, I’m not like
The common earthworm,
Where a chopped off head
Might regrow again,
With the same old memories
Good Lord! and, Amen.

Shoulder memory
What would that be?
A whole lot of shrugs
If you’re asking me,
A guy with all the answers
And then some, I ain’t,
If my shoulder grew a head
Why, even I would faint.

How about dismantled?
A better term, perhaps,
Like scattered Lego blocks
And Junior playing Taps,
With a 21-gun salute
For a shoulder in shambles,
After losing my footing
When I fell in the brambles.

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