The pen scratches over the ink soaked pad
A speared fish torn away from its school
Confused it moves as now a lonely tool
Still linked to fight towards the truth it had.
It darts from margin line to margin line
In pain to express the pull of its home
As chaos forms into a simple poem
Though clearly now it screams of life not fine.
The senses make up the gasping creature
Who knows that it must say what has been seen
If only making this dying breath clean
Then wholeness left behind can be the cure.
A line cast across the darkening page
To reel in more glimpses of frothing rage.
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