Rain drops spatter the windows,
I watch from the inside,
Gloom shadows my eyes.
Forever trapped
Within this Hell,
Bidden to duties unwilling.
Bucket in one hand,
Sponge in the other,
To cleanse this life of mine.
A flicker of lightening brightens the room,
Reflecting the hatred
Within blue-grey eyes.
Wander the room,
Washing away hope and joy
With a single scrub.
Purging the happiness,
Bringing forth the dark
Into this empty shell that is I.
Salted droplet's pattern pale face,
Streaks painted down hollow cheeks,
Falling to wooden floor.
Numbness is all that's felt,
Fingers uncurl
Bucket and sponge dropped.
Knee's bruise,
Floor cracks,
As trembling body falls.
Through clouds of childhood,
Into prison of responsibility,
Tears unlock the gates of misinterpreted rain.
Light wind of breath,
Past barrier of flesh,
Last thing to be heard.
Thunder clashes,
Shaking trees outside grungy prison.
Inside all is quiet,
Deaths dusted robes sweeps the floor,
Curling at fallen prisoner's body.
Boney hand grasps motionless corpse,
Sudden rigid with mortis.
Window falls to might of wind,
Cool air sweeping through,
Suddenly Reaper and victim are gone.
Hours gone, and prison cell unlocked.
Parental units emerge from heavenly outing,
Only to find one thing missing.
Young child slave,
Of blue-grey eyes,
Gone amongst the wind.
Rain still spatters the windows,
Heavier with the tears
Of imprisoned ghost-child.
