Leola Strydom

Elbows on knees
Face in hands
hair in wet and oily strands

Water dripping in a constant tap, tap, tap
on the cold cemented floor
dusty dark windows and a steel framed door

This destitude of solitude
with shadows dancing on the walls
and in the fainted echoes the night calls

a soul so strong but torn apart
the beating of a stone cold heart

who is this man with the dull brown eyes
who sees his pain and hears his cries
who is the silhouette in the wooden chair
what is the reason of his empty stare

This cold that is slowly creeping in
will freeze your blood and burn your skin.