battered beaten twisted and torn
back bowing head hanging
mind full of fragments and ribbons of what used to be coherent thought
his robes are threadbare and black with worry
festering sores bleeding from all his trying
soul worn thin sick and crying
his breast with ripped flesh white bone shining
arms twisted and broken lie limp at his side
legs too week to carry
my god i think I'm dieing
Author notes
Written March 13th, 2005
A contest entry
- I want the real you!!!!! by .
300 points, ended March 23, 2005, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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