Hear, Hear . . . I hear these voices
in my brain that encircle it like
a thick fog that has no beginning
nor an end. Cries, Cries . . . these
cries hide myself in me unable to
let go. Tears, Tears . . . these tears
burn down the flesh of this aging
scarred gray face from eyes that
used to gleam but brightness taken
from them so very young. Pain, Pain . . .
the pain returns each night to haunt
my restless sleep with tortured demons
from long ago that seem to shadow true
life hidden. See, See . . . can you see what
you have done to this once free spirit
by plucking wings of innocence and
leaving to die on this cold hard ground
To hear, to cry, the tears, the pain,
to see that there really is no reason why . . . why.