Son of No-One

Walk down a dusty road, whirlwinds cutting cross the way

creaking slow this rusted soul, skies are darkened on this day

sand and grit caught in my teeth, scraping raw these misted eyes

tattered sheaf lies in my hands, a will that cannot be revised

mistakes are made, irrevocable

no matter how much you pray or plead

is the judger counting up the total

when you clasp your hands and fall to knees

He smiles when I cry and shake

canines glinting in the night

the curse upon our bloodline reigns

progress toward the victory slight

a bitter wind whips to the core, black and blue and animal

huddle close to flickering lies, fueled by pilfered twigs and coal

the answer dances in the flames, reach too close and burn the skin

the vast expanse remains the same, turn away to breathe again

dawn is breaking to the east, violet rivers dominate

shafted light wayalays the beast, delay the bleak predestined fate

reach up toward the acrid air, breaking splints of hate and fear

brightened path will make it fair, yet the directions never clear

trudging down the rocky hill, hear the creeping in the dale

theyre waiting to take feast and fill, obsidian fur, with horses pale

swooping vultures blot the sun, cawing with a peircing shriek

will in hand forbids to run, I must remain timid and meek

a blasting gale rips my cloak, seething mass sent by the lord

never an angry word I spoke, all the hate and envy stored

the answer lies benath the earth, rotting in a wooden cask

question asked before my birth, drunkard stealing to fill the flask

a wooded glen now looms ahead, dark and gnarled branches reach

all courage left instantly fled, the terror in m mind has breached

the sanctum of my sanity, bastion of fight or flight

spit on the ground and find the key, enter the forest riding on spite

undergrowth will pull me down, claim me as one of their own

machete flashes and blood abounds, vines will scream and flowers moan

rusted blade generational, handed down with pride and tears

wielded quite sensational, cut away the writhing fears

violent vortex carries me to doom, flaying flesh down to bone

swan song soon to be crooned, the circling crows now have flown

answer etched and calcified, son of no-one, wretched waif

curse lies dormant, fate defied, thank the gods I have no faith.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

My fave of those written in jail.

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KindredSpirit's picture

Like this one poofs

A little long.


A lot of emotion in it

To understand.