non sense chatta

to everyone eyes
he has been  
a time so wills a time
with his poetic words so streamed

in colors of time so black
as the now becomes a fall
among the chattering of thorns
so pricked upon his skin
with no more blood to share
he tolerates the goss

the pain on a daily call
for he can endure
for he knows what pain to cure 
for he cuts his words before
so pictured shared 

to be free from the claws so surrenders
he becomes now 
to a love so killed
to calm by who
but himself