I Am A Skeleton

I am the face of death;

once beautiful, still beautiful,

remaining beautiful.

I am draped in torn sheets of black;

in the wind, flowing free,

revealing my figure.

I am nothing;

hungry, yearning,

reality be I'm dying.

 I was flogged;

my blood, it stains,

red as crimson, raging down my back.

I was beaten;

bruised, trapped,

repetitively mocked.

I was shattered;

broken, scarred,

ready to end.
I am a skeleton;
years and years
of withering away,
requesting eternal rest.

©LJ

12 June 2014