Behind My Eyes

Creek

How do you describe the way in which a personal walks?
The stride in which they take each step?
His shoulders didn't hang low, he held him self up, with difficulty.
Each step on air as his icy breath seeped into the air, laced with fear.
His eyes where almost taken from him by a man's hatred.
He couldn't really see where he was going, blinded by his will to keep himself together.
I don't think he could really see me, but I could see the black in his eyes,
and I could feel the stir in my stomach as he approached me.
Challenging every last thought about the past against tomorrow's lament,
he came upon me with a knife of guilt that shouldn't belong to me, dropping it next to me in the dirt.
His expression was enough, there, to make me throw up.
The sweat dripping down his dark forehead, somehow making me shiver.
His steps had been fast and faster, as he ran straight for heavens gate,
To proclaim his reward of serving once more in love after anguish.
To see his father the light that paves my way through a world in which I find things I wish I could unsee.
He ran....
I couldn't describe it until he slipped into cold water.
He didn't flinch how could he?
His face solum as he hung his head low.
So dark to look at.
Against the old trees, and brown water...
...I couldn't do anything but look.