That was the Friday word as per Mona. I am late with that one. So here goes.. rather dark, but life is not a bed of roses eh?
Update: I am sorry I have not been at a lot of your blogs and I am away, with no access to the web most of the day tomorrow and possibly for some more time. But I will visit your blogs as soon as I can.
Slow creeping unstoppable
Quicksand sucking down his soul
A body that could no longer fight
Old, grizzled and beaten down
Lonely and misunderstood he thought
He loved in his own way
Is it love, if the words are delivered with the sharpness of a rapier?
A love that rarely speaks its name
Tenderness does not become him
Neither does humility
Hubris his middle name
His own blood shirks from him
Wishing he would go…just go
One life destroyed is enough
You will not touch another one
So take another sip from the chalice of your misery
May death spring upon you soon
His own blood whispered.