Reaching out
from the darkened recesses.
With calloused fingers
and rough bit nails.

Clawing
Grabbing.
Clutching.
At any semblance of order...
And balance.

Make these theirs.
Let these be within reach.

For they,
those digits...
Worn, scraggly and desperate.

They belong to one.
They answer to one,
martyred heart.