A disfigured leg
drags heavy affliction
shaped like a human
across the defaced town
called life.
No amount of water could quench the thirst
for belongingness,
which keeps the masses all shriveled up.
Perhaps it's the decoy
to mask the appearances
that haunt people,
coming in the form of
lonely suffocation
and loving the demise
of a loved one's attention.
Where's the other leg, you may ask.
Its owner dissected it away,
cutting off all semblance
so they won't want to escape
the town
whose name I don't wish to repeat.
YOU ARE READING
Hushed Ballads
Poetry"You are holding your breath, dying slowly. The worst part? You don't even know it." #54 in poetry - 04.07.2016
