Attacks

He stands out there in the open
Such an unfamiliar place for the wanderer
Used to his worn paths, hidden in shadows
The rain is pouring down, crashing against his skin
Eyes red and worn from the tears and the pain
His lips trembling and his breath in stutters
He lifts his arms and opens them to the world
Keeps his eyes focused blankly on the ground ahead
His threadbare shirt and tattered jeans do nothing
Offer no protection from the upcoming onslaught
One shot, clean across his cheek, comes first
But he's never bled a softer red than this
The barrage into his chest knocks him back a step
Bruises are instant, but his stature never moves
He brings the foot sent back for balance back up
Then, like a handful of razors, the next group comes
He falls to his knees, arms still open
Lifts his head to the sky and cry out above
No noticeable words, just the bitter rage of constant pain
One last attempt, a final knife, driven straight through
From spine to heart and out the tender skin of his chest
He falls face first to the ground and rest on his cheek
Nothing left, all would expect him to pray above
But only a gentle, broken whisper comes out
"Rain, rain go away, all the world is waiting for your light."