He cowered in a corner.

Another blow on his bare body,

Another blow to his broken heart.

His lashes fluttered in pain.

Compensating,

For the numerous whips lashed onto him.

What had been his mistake?

His wounds bled for an answer.

A fragile body?

A burdened innocence?

An orphaned past?

He winced as the tears trickled down,

Cascading down his swollen face

Soothing his bruises like a salve.

Dreams now seemed a broken wing

A stillborn child.

So distant, that the echoes were lost

to his screaming whispers.

A shooting star shot across the still sky-

He glanced and looked away.

He had stopped wishing on a shooting star.

Every night was the same ritual;

Caressing his swollen lip,

And mending his shattered heart.

Misery and solitude-

His constant companions.

The unfulfilled promises and the ghosts of the past,

All were now fading into oblivion.

He had accepted his fate;

His chained silence,

His soul bellowing for riddance.

However, he silenced the anguish,

Despair was his wife now.

Loneliness had found its place,

Had sunk in and had settled in its home.

After all, who was he?

Just another whisper or a clammed voice?

Another famished soul?

Another destitute lost its battle,

Another sufferer succumbed to the struggle.