Mute and broken under a thousand horses, trampled and beaten like a cottonless picking slave. He wanted nothing but to be heard. Fighting against the lies of witches and wicked beings I see his strength diminishing before the Tourette affected kid blink. He twist to form a new and the crowd cheers, watching whatbhe was slip slowly away. Their thirst was relentlessly and needy, craving a new muse. Force to please through a humble cloak masked with self blame he begs for unnecessary satisfaction. I question him why, all he said he was life sucks sometimes. I cling to my fairytale world for a little while longer before letting go. Open my once childlike eyes to reveal the fogged reality. He was body painted in bruises and shame was wilted in its bronze like form. His eyes icy cold in fear trembling in endless abuse. I wonder if he'll warn me. I walking in the valley of danger day and night under his blessing shiwld when dad was at war for us. He was dying from within the like a baby with cri chu cat held a gun to all the demons raised against. For this is a noble man.
-for my uncle Casey
