CAGES

Another needle; another finger prick,
Another morning waking, feeling sick.
A restless night with cramps and pressing pain,
The fading will to climb the hill again.
And no one cares, for how can they know,
For on the face such torment doesn't show.
And caring cannot save the wasting limbs,
Nor renew the fading light as it dims.
Most times it fails to reach our tangled thoughts,
But sometimes it is the Joker in our courts,
Who's humour is so morbid to behold,
That even humour one is forced to scold.
Thereby to isolated cages we retreat,
For who would want this specimen to meet.