A powdery white sheen of innocence
Crouched in a dark corner
Cleaning a non-healing wound
Growling with fear
Starved and parched
Wounded by vanity
Ignorance and carelessness
Not his own
Nor by choice
He howls as he struggles
He moans his displeasure
As he comforts his illness
In conversation with shadows
No comments:
Post a Comment