John Doe

I was one of the fallen.
The one they left behind.
Leaving me to wither and die.
Dressed in purest black.
My skin marked forever.
Skin pierced with silver and gold.
People cannot grasp and hold,
the fact that I'm different.
I can withstand
the back of my father's hand.
And even with tears streaming down my face,
I continue the day with everlasting grace.
I have used hellfire's flame
to take away my pain.
But then suddenly it all comes back.
With diminishing words,
it attacks.
It yanks my hair
making me scream in despair.
I try to fight back with my nails dragging down their skin,
like one hundred thousand pins.
They've wrapped their hands around my neck.
Looks like this is the end of my trek.
My lungs scream for air and they get nothing.
My attacker isn't bluffing.
Then all goes black.
There so ends my strife,
of a horrible
wretched
life.