All abound
in crimson throws,
low lamentation
bids farewell,
for beaten folk, who,
troubled tread
for light has failed
to find them.

Endorphins dull
the sting of use
as fractured boarders
pall away.
Three times removed,
yet leaving nought,
save footprints
far behind them.

They did not clip my wings;

But made me believe that I can't fly.


Questioning my every move;

Never answering my whys.


Telling me my limits;

Darkening my already stormy sky.


Taking all my reasons to live;

And giving me none to die.


Choking on my own tears;

I drown in the ocean I cry.


They did not pull my strings;

But made me their puppet as I can't defy.