Alone

It seldom rains in the desert,

But it rains on these dusty grains.

The water is leeched through the loose specks

Like emotions stripped from a broken man

By lashing him, starving him and humiliating him.

Only weeds grow here;

No flowers ever bloom,

Twisted thorns caress the earth;

An itchy woollen blanket

Offering no comfort from the icy cold.

Direction is meaningless in this featureless expanse;

Every path leads nowhere.

With an iron cannon ball lodged deep

In the center of the heart choking out all breath

With fear and uncertainty of what to do.

Wide open wastes and endless clear skies;

One could go anywhere they pleased,

Yet be forever trapped in isolation.

Good decisions are impossible without information,

You cannot make something out of nothing.

To go forward is terrifying,

To go back is despair.

All around is a man in a black cloak with dead white hands

And a mirror for a face,

And you hope he is not the only escape.