When I first encountered pain,
I found it sitting in the rain.
The man held close
A lifeless ghost
And trembled, soaked and seething.
“She is not breathing,”
I mentioned with pause,
To which he flexed his troubled claws.
I felt the city crumble
And smoke clouds, rolling, rumble.
The man cast up his eyes
And with a sigh replied,
“Neither am I, son. Neither am I.”
- Katen Anais
This page is inspiration only--the works shown here are often not cited (usually due to my ignorance of the actual artist), but they are NOT mine.