Wednesday, September 2012
Wrought with iron chains and blood
His hindsight is sore
Blisters form in and out
His flesh rotting underneath the core
Screams are the only companion
In the silence of the pain
His feet are muddy and cracked
Like a desert without rain
Night time fevers and sweaty palms
Are daily creatures of life
A lonely day and lonely night is enough
To grab a knife
He cries in his sleep
Begging for help
Yet only silence greets the night
And an occasional yelp
Sixth sense has abandoned the man
His wife is asleep
He stares up at the ceiling
Only to catch his reflection weep
>>k.l
