The Touch of the Hostile Hand

With a cold look from pale eyes,

He places his hand upon my shoulder -

A cold hand with an uncomfortable touch,

That sends a shiver through my trembling spine -

His look means business and so does his stance,

He cares not for my comfort,

Nay, even my life,

And shall not hesitate for an instant,

Before he strikes me down to death,

I have lost all hope,

And my defenses melt away in the heat,

Of his unforgiving presence,

I stand there, naked,

Devoid of the sheaths I'd once called my self,

Now I see a new self,

Compromised,

Ready to share all he wants,

If only he'd let me go -

And now I see and I feel,

That none in the world is any different,

Every soul around is selfish,

And comes to me with purpose -

It could be for a shoulder,

Or a noble cause,

But is seldom without reason -

While I, the person, am seen,

As the holder of their product,

And not a soul that needs a friend.

At lab, 9:37pm 22.12.2016