Eyes do not wish to open
For fear of what they see
...have seen
**** my eyes
My body rouses itself
Tickled by the morning sun
It crawls through the window
pushing until the glass gives way
Blood is but a small price to pay
Blood is the currency of my body
and my mind has use of neither
toppling five feet to the ground below
I... it struggles to my... my knees
so that it may hug the sunshine
leaving identical
dents in the soft earth
the Marks of Servitude