the red haired one they called him
a tortured being that wandered
the moonlit streets at night
cursing god and weeping in turn
with his lurching gait
you could just smell the alcohol
on his breath
with a face inexplicably shadowed
no matter the time of day
if you got caught in his gaze
it seemed like he would wish
you to the depths of hell
tattoos on his arms
mingled with scars from burns
from cuts
from the tattered heart
he wore on his sleeve
spoke of a past now unknown
a mere shade of a human
all that saw him felt not fear
but pity
i passed by him once
with a hurried step and downward gaze
but he grabbed my arm
with a grip like iron
and i felt drawn upwards towards his face
with a cry of surprise
a wrench from his grasp
and flee down the streets
heart pounding fast
with barely a breath to catch
for i recognized me