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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #1993840
For a man that writes about so much emotion, I have none because I am incapable of as much

-Upon My Bleeding Horse-
by Keaton Foster

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Upon
My bleeding horse
I ride
Through
The dark woods
I won’t hide
I’ll journey
Way down deep
Into the guts
Into the blackness
Only there
Do I alone
Keep hearing a sound
It’s calling me every day
Since the day
That I was born
Into this infernal existence
It says the same things
It repeats each word
Hundreds of times
Between
Sunrise and sunset
After
The night has crept
It has driven me mad
It has left me sad
Weak unto myself
Impossible is the doubt
Terrifying is the without
The dream
The one that comes
The one that haunts
Not to be confused
With a nightmare
But rather a premonition
Of a repetitive circumstance
It starts as the door creeks
Then the windows shake
Only then does the creature
Called beast come
It has come to rape
Come to molest
Come to take
An ounce of my soul
I have no choice
I must pay
Even if I’m sure
That I don’t owe
Such an event
Such a tragic undertaking
Has made me who I am
Has left me without defense
Has made me incapable of faith
Not because I don’t believe
Because I am powerless
To do as much
No emotion in any form
Do I hold in my heart or mind
I can feel nothing at all
Because what once
Allowed to feel has been removed
Raped from my soul
Removed from my bones
Taken against my will
Leaving me feeling
Nothing at all
Upon
My bleeding horse
I ride
Through
The dark woods
I won’t hide
I’ll journey
Way down deep
Into the guts
Into the blackness
Into what I know
To face what I don’t…



Upon My Bleeding Horse
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.

© Copyright 2014 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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