Bleeding Heart Perched

-Bleeding Heart Perched-
by Keaton Foster



Upon
The wall
There
Once
In his hand
Standing
Is a man
Still living
Slowly
But surely
Without question
Dying
Brutal is his life
Terrifying
Has been
His existence
His demise
Appropriate
The blade
Once sharp
Made quite dull
At his feet
Never
Will it be
Retrieved
No need
The damage
Is done
The wound
Unsung
His blood
Like a river
Does it run
No one sees
No one but him
Everything
Crimson red
The stain
Will be
Immense
The horror
When it hits
Unforgettable
At best
There are a few
Those so damned
They won’t care
Neither
Will they fear
Their souls
Exposed
Just like his
Yet unlike him
They manage
Continually
Further living
Existence
And living
Two sides
Of the same coin
He was not meant
Never for a sec
His life
A lie
His why
Another lie
His purpose
Never defined
His will
Broken
Shattered
Then dismantled
Everything
He is
Or ever was
A complete
Shamble
Upon
The wall
There
Once
In his hand
Standing
Is a man
Still living
Slowly
But surly
Without question
Dying
His heart
Callous and just
Sliced
From his chest
Sitting
In plain view
Of those
Who have
Always refused
And of those
Who see
Just as he
It beats
It remains
Vibrant
Not weak
As his body
Falls to the ground
Shattering
All that is abound
The thud
A hell of a sound
Only outdone
By the beat
Of a heart
That has refused
To accept
The end
Of living
And
The associated
Suffering
Of the man
Who once held
The sharpest of blade
Made quite dull
Such a quandary
His bleeding
Beating heart
Perched
Upon a wall
Is unwilling to know
What is coming next
The very end…



Bleeding Heart Perched
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.