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His words
He speaks to me when the sunsets,
waits till mind goes to relaxation stage,
to calm my nerves,
the four walls colored as a new born innocence,
pours fresh soothing aromas,
wooden object in the middle with four legs,
I am tired so I choused to sit,
his dull ruff hands on my shoulder,
he rubs to relief my stress,
no comparison been some time no soft hands to relief,
mind grows hysterical,
heart running its own marathon,
his words calm me down,
tranquility on mind,
heart rest to a sweet lullaby,
yet veins grow red fluid as rain
splatter on the cement floor,
making the room a Picasso art work,
but feel no pain,
simply rage,
words captivated my mind at times,
he controls me or so I think,
he disappears as the light is upon,
sits and observes,
hope he remembers the words that were said,
the object around me neck keeps me safe,
the figured providing life,
I think hopes to see me once again,
grown to a man with no sin,
yet in this world no one is save,
wings have been torn
since the day I set foot on earth
