The Rage
Open palms slapping the face.
A weightless body being
dragged across the
tile.
Pulling the scalp high and
higher.
A beast has been tortured for
years.
Rotting in his cell of
a mind,
his sentence has ran
out of time.
The rage is out,
unleashing on a
mother,
as her screams echo
A still boy stands
aloof and paralyzed.
No shakes, No tears
Too young to defend
but old enough to
feel.
The rage has blinded,
fading everything else away.
Except my memories,
while I yawn but stay awake.
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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