The Blind
He would lie on the bed, for sight he’s lost,
His eyes turned into cold crystal-like frost.
And yet he did not struggle, he felt no fear,
He didn’t panic; he couldn’t even shed a tear.
Alas, he couldn’t move, his eyes turned to stone
He felt a deep shiver that traveled to his bone.
Clueless and lost the monster lay in bed,
With so many different questions in his head.
So many inquiries, he couldn’t ask one,
And besides he knew, the answers knew no one.
No one would hear him, not a soul, no more,
He had no one to cry with, he was alone.
Although this would be a small price to pay,
He would die on the twelfth morning to the day
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