IntimidusRex

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

flesh.

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,

us.

Just one more silhouette silenced 'neath

a winters bulb. Just one more Christmas

ornament, burned out, un-retrieved. 

A relic to partitioned history lived,

un-enjoyed.

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