6Scarred face
Pale
Like the snow on the ground
Woolen scarf
The only gift ever received
Given by a strange man
In a car
As red as blood
Calloused hands
Reach out
For hope
Grasping
Nothing
But empty faith
The hands of Death
Creeping
Slink through the icy air
Closer
Closer
Faith
Draining fast
The Man's face
Is more pale
Scarred Sad
The cars pass
Not noticing
The fingers
Grasping and holding fast
Like the fog
That envelopes the sky
Made of steel
All hope is lost
His heart is frozen
The blood flow halted
And glazed with ice
Death has won
He lies like a stone
The scarf dotted with blood
From the Man's bleeding heart
A man walking home from work
To meet his family
Sees the Man
And steps over him
Continuing on his way
No one stops
His discolored,
Bony face
Lying alone
The pavement swallows him