My assistance has a price.

Cold wall at my back.
The ticking clock the
taunting clock,
beckoning the hour
of darkness.
You wait to piece
together my
broken
Self in the
arms of indifference.
You have needs
that must be
attended to,
your time so very
precious,
you must alleviate the
stress of idleness
with brown glass
and
pretence.
A job
for
A job and I
will no longer
work alone. The devil
wants my soul.
Darkness calls.
Time continues to
move. My mind has
slowed. My muscles hurt.
My body tired.
Raphael shroud me
beneath your wings,
for I will not sell my soul.

Karen Hayward ©2016

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