Pain Poem by Timothy Faboade

I hear a morbid, horrid voice
Full of wings, feather and strength
Entering all including the groins
Moving from breath to length
From head to toe, toe to head
Jarring all nerves and souls
With which it wants to wed.
Spasm, tears form its goals,
Short of words, he only groans
Grinning, gnashing, he cries
With plenty poor croaking tones
Asking from where it freely flies.
Bones ruptured, flesh punctured
Leaving eyes to release the water
Its gains Pain in man nurtures
The tears and fears of the mortal
Flowing through the weary eyes,
The bleeding and brooding of mind
Spreading through to its lies,
Are its ways he can never find.
Choked, he squeals, and shrills
Yet a foot his voice can't tread
Where he's, stagnant, he remains still,
Thinking pain brings a bed.