Seeping,weeping,ever creeping
tears roll down his face.
Nothing more is there for him
from those who took his base.
From which he stands.
From which he gets his strength.
Whats left? A shell, a hollow man,standing in his place.
On knifes edge he dances freely.
The direction known is naught-
Which way to fall or how to climb.
All knowledge he forgot.
Will he falter? Lay down and die?
Or find the truer path?
To succeed, to survive, he must abide.
He must do what they ask.
Do not wallow, do not cry, nor to chant in fear.
These things he knows,
but so distant they appear.
On an island, off the shore,
found through telescope.
Locked within a tower leering,
There remains his hope.
