By: Darryl Hrynyk
 
 
 

                                Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip....
                             The constant drip of a water droplet,
                                Falling on the hunched up piece
                                     Of flesh called a man.

                                     He still does breathe,
                                 But faintly, waiting to go...

                                     Living in his domain,
                                      What he calls home,
                                      And we call insane.

                                     No light, pitch black,
                                      Always being night.

                                    He doesn't mind though,
                                       He likes the dark,
                              It gives his thoughts places to go.

                                   But now the time has come,
                                 For the rest of him to follow.
                                       Forgotten by man,
                                  His body has become hollow.

                              He wasn't always like this you know,
                                    But something happened,
                                 Something died on the inside,
                                           Long ago.

                                   It could happen to anyone,
                                But soon this one will be done.

                             This poor man has spent twenty years,
                                     living a life of hell.
                               Constantly fighting all his fears,
                                       But after awhile,
                            He finally grew accustomed to his cell.

                                              * * *

                     Copyright © 1997 by Darryl Hrynyk, All rights reserved