The Forgotten Ones
A coldness gathers strong, it clings
like a worn leather glove, surrounding
the form which is you.
Marrow chilled, despite the bindings
and cloth that encompass near death
The doorway, not deep enough to reverse
the blatant fallacy of thought. Steam rises,
heat escapes, ice waxing eyebrows stiff.
Rigor and cold leave you encapsulated
in frozen relief.
Given no thought, I pass you by, just
another derelict, forgotten.
One more lost soul to the policy which is,
Just one more silhouette silenced 'neath
a winters bulb. Just one more Christmas
ornament, burned out, un-retrieved.
A relic to partitioned history lived,
A loser of life, respect un-afforded to an
uncleansed section of societies segmented
strata. A subject noteworthy not, lest it
be us or one that affects us.
Time.... once realized, is a relative commodity
given its shortened span at attention and
thought derived thereof.
Judge us not.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11786147-The-Forgotten-Ones-by-IntimidusRex#sthash.ouoDSysj.dpuf