The Ghosts That Wait For Spring -

Somewhere in a prison

There’s a muffled cry

From a hooded figure

Please don’t forget me

To redact a human

Black blocks on existence

A ghost in a cell

Stripped

A shuffled gait

Betrays the mind of a man

Reduced to echoes and rumours

Of where truth lies

Every inch of skin clothed

With head in a bag

Relic of humanity

Forget

Again