A phone call…
Short terrifying silences,
mutterings and mumbles…
Nothing but a line that branches,
the invisible with he who is fearful.
Ripping sobs,
tearful nights,
he hides.
Afraid of what could befall him,
searching for help,
wanting comfort and warmth,
but is left with cold and worry.
Walking the deserted streets
alone he moves,
shifting at every noise,
every rustle,
every shiver.
Screaming inside,
paranoid – insane.
Life trailing in footsteps gone cold.