The Leper's Prospect -

Cold winds

Sting my coarse and blistered skin

Making my return

To a vain veil of time

Dead dreams

Shadows cry out desparately

Can you not remember

Your lost son’s name?

Why should I persist?

Wrap me up in shrouds

And let me remain unseen

Trees that grow together

Like father and son

Stand in stark contrast

To my dreadful outcast soul

I wander, forlorn

Disfugured, so sore

Aching from the weight

I bore all those years

I am descending a black mountain

That crumbles beneath my feet

Still, I am looking back

Over barren hills

Devoid of light

I struggle to draw my breath

Straining my sight

Just so I might catch

A glimpse of a long dead dream