The Betrayer

He lives with a memory,
a song, and a fear.
No one remembers.

He sits alone, beneath
the shrouded forms of broken dreams
which with jagged fingers

point mercilessly,
and the room is dark
with the gloom of despair.

He hears mocking voices
without feelings.
The icy touch of Death chills him.

He walks 'til he must return
or the voices leave him.
He stops where he stands.

When he is truly alone
he whirls quickly
to battle with his soul.

1986

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Thoughts and Comments

Modeled after "The Child" by Donald Hall.

Published under my maiden name: Barbara Muller

Chrysalis
Robert McQueen High School
Reno, Nevada
Volume 1, No. 4
June 1986

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©2005-2010 Barbara L.M. Handley

Contact Barbara Handley at mailto:ardea@flipsideb.com

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