Wednesday, July 2, 2014


The man looks perfectly okay on the outside
His skin is shiny with sweat of hard labor
All his afflictions, he manages to hide
He hides everything he abhors 

Beneath his skin, his life is a war
He speaks heathen prayers, alone
His soul ripples, filled with scars
For him, there is no home

At night he sleeps a dreamless sleep
He feeds his fears to the termites
They crawl under his skin deep
He used to, but now he never fights

The man looks perfectly okay
Inside him, his bones are rotten 
He fades away one fine day
All alone, forgotten

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