Dark

Deprived of affection and a sense of belonging

one retires to a sanctuary of isolation.

Arraigned by the acute pain of rejection

the walls become his or her world.

I've never been one to judge, 

But it's come time for your reckoning. 

Justified injustice of character, 

Quite subpar. 

A ripped shell holds the inevitable

The lost vow thought unbreakable

Her swollen core cracking slowly

Freeing the feelings she thought so lowly

The rich are bored with their money,

Yet the poor are still starving.

Hookers and strippers sell themselves to support a family,

And congress laughs and spends money on pointless things.

Overwhelmed. 

Scared. 

Paranoid. 

Frightened. 

These are a few of the words I use to describe myself. 

The Year Is 1538:

 

 

His back ached with the burden of his mother, and though he silently cursed himself for his lack of stamina and overall fitness, he managed to find solace in the fact that he would only have to carry her for a few more hours. The sun dwindled behind the trees and the light was filtered into broken shards of yellow. Sweat fell from his glistening forehead, and the droplets landed next to falling twigs.