Just thoughts

I see the darkness surrounding me
I feel the cold lusterious time.
I hear the cry of death mocking all of us,
I sit here dreaming on the bus.

Tears streaming down the forgotten child's face
They hide behind scattered scars of a past so dark
Given to one by a sick tormenter standing over with a mace.
The scream not once they feel the burning mark.

Bleeding from the fresh wound.
The child knows not the cry or show any weekness
for the out come will be bleak.

I hope that one day that the torture will soon end.