Crawling around with drugs in the veins

             leaving behind trails of rust from body braces and chains

Scratching with cracked nails on concrete floors
               Slipping on fresh sores while pulling forward towards unopened wooden doors

         Fists launch against the borders like a barrage of mortars pounding out the corners
                Abused and cold on the floor like nothing more of than a broken stillborn while thunder cracks just feet away.

      A silhouette of a man paces around the room with nothing to say

                 swatting something out of his way and when the thunder ceases to play

           The silhouette stops, it begins to whisper and sway.