We bare the brunt of it,
torso and all, the upper body
and the neck-
the twisted arms,
like branches silhouetted in snow.
We breathe, wrinkled in our drapery
plastic, fake and all,
faces buried, reaching out for redemption
needlessly we fall.
Cascading blood, the lines of fathers
etched deep, scraped within
the thoughts of all as we curl up,
crouch and cry - life has no soul.
Lily like and white, frost falls,
the light of window offers hope,
a little ray of sun-shine
deported mess, destitute,
whale face, pouring death.
Grey sky-sadness, music man, suffer no one.
Line upon line, the shadows of bodies
twist and pain, the stars give eyes to wanderers,
the night gives light to sky.