the skeleton man

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The old man sat upon the ground
to wait aside this dusty town
of cracked and fallen tombs

he spoke in broken word and verse
to taunt the hated hangman's curse
as the stagnent stenchs loomed


"woe is me my fingers crack,
my head is bleeding to my back,
yet your afraid to take me

I am frail and can not stand
or lift my limbs to use my hands
why do you wait to shake me?"

As an uttered word had leapt
off his lips in light of death
he waited for the sun.

For as the sun had awakened,
on the path that light had taken,
the skeleton man had come.

Under a mask of black and pale
the light of red, did prevail
through his eyes like storms

Through the old mans soul he looked
into all the cracks and nooks
to find another form.

The spirit is exactly what he wanted
the fight he fought as he had taunted
was all the skeleton man would need.

He touched the old man on the top
stopped his heart, he finally dropped
With just a touch, he's free.

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