Tuesday, 19 February 2013


courtesy google.com

Pain, fear, un-remorseful jabs on his face.
Wide open palms swinging to his cheek bone 
Tightened fists to face Head butts, kicks, spits and rants Swinging club to knee.
Crack! crack!, the ribs are sounding,
Heart is pacing.
A joint feeling of fear and pain Cripples the spine

...Can you see through his eyes?

The mob.

Running through the wind in fear,
The crowd behind him, hurling things in the air 
Slicing through his fear ...Objects breezing near. 
He can't seem to keep them off his rear.

They catch up to him.

Bang! On the head, rolls on floor
Pounding increasing accompanying the uproar.
Sticks, planks and metals rising up and down to his almost lifeless body... 
In symphony of a determined goal; the kill.

His sight is blurred, 
with tears and blood.

Rod to the chest planks to head left for dead.
Tyres roll in, then gasoline and match.

Strike!... There was fire... Then nothing.

Mob disperses.

Did u see through his eyes?