Torn being
Dark clouds hang over space
With a heavy head , I sit desolate
A passer-by can tell by my stance
Or by a mere gaze at my face
That I have been beaten by the seasons
I bow my head and have a look at my hollow chest
To have a glimpse at the grey horizon
Behind my back
My weak knees support my elbows
As my frail fingers caress the fragile
Skin still holding my bones.
Why am I here, I ask my self,
For my whole being has been torn from me
Copyright © Joel Apeede | Year Posted 2024
|