Thorns II

A hand that reached out to Hold you grabbed The heart of old and held on. Leaving it close to death, Not caring. Just like before.. Whispers of less truths Filter out between breaths Of foul air. No one wants you, And yet you come Back kicking. You dance the dance, Finding place among Your own. Hands guide you that Are not your own. Hands cover your eyes, As you continue to Dance. It becomes a cartoon As the the music fades, And you have a little less Control. Your movements continue In jerks and silent Screams. Pulsing is your heart, As you take in what is Left of their souls.