Mars Rising

He was born from blood

A three-legged bastard barely breathing

Severed hands and gunsmoke greeted his teething

The lost child of war, brutal and seething

Of apathy

Of penniless nights and gunfights

Of grim faced ghosts and empty placations

A mongrel dog without love or adoration

One eye black

The other grey

Ran till his feet were stubs

Chest heaving

Starved, stabbed, and beaten

Mocked and eaten

A scar, a scab, a cretin

Chewed up, spit out, left without means

The last orphan of wolfish days and dragon dreams

Of drug addled parents and abusive screams

Of forgotten birthdays

Of crooked ways

His stride keeping pace with the emporers time

His chin held heavy against a sweaty chest

Living out his hallow days in the ragged west

Waiting for a place to rest his head

For all the world to pronounce him dead