Listening to the echoes that sound at night,
I lie awake and count the stars,
Crimson rivulets tracing my form,
Softly weeping behind steel bars,
Curling into the ice-cold night,
Flinching away in pain,
Remaining as invisible as one can be,
While their host goes slowly insane,
Quietly trying to muffle my cries,
Hopelessly frustrated and sickeningly scared,
(
Read more... )