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ghostchild and golden monkey - bad man

Bad manIn a sad place All alone Holding the hand Of the slaughtered ones The breath Of their last breathing Trickling like wayward smoke Through the dampness of His fingers And the bad man Just sits And sighs And wonders that The dimness does not fade The raging does not quiet The burning in his head Is a monologue A ranting of something darker Than the blood upon his face And he cannot understand Why his tears are so grimy His lips ravaged by black muck His lungs dance so madly And in his darkness Beneath a cage of flesh And unreal bone Hurt is blossoming In a garden of swaying aches And he cannot ask He cannot see Or hear or smell Or simply just divine A single reason why

bits and bobs and stuff

#fridayflash - In Anticipation of an Unexpected End