A Wounded Man

Still standing, not quite steady, but lift up from the ground.

His integrities are much more than his capabilities.

One foot dangling, mulling, not sure whether it’s going fell to the ground or stick with his bodies.

He reminds me, a story of a little chicken. She was a new born chicken, with all feathers shaved. Two legs tied thigh on a rope. She screamed, begging for her life in language that man whom approach her failed to understand.

The man takes the rope that tied her legs. He Swung her in the air, while having an unclean raspy laugh. Broke one of her legs, left the others dangling, only a single touch of an index finger, could separate her legs form her body. It’s in the state of dilemma.

The man released her after she 99% wounded. Kicked her to the graveyard of a man.

She looked up, not quite sure what she could do with her legs. She got no chance to climbed up, and live life as a handicap chick.

Strangely, knowing that sooner, or later the ground will fell over her. She still standing with one leg, looked up, unmoved her wet bare bodies.

This is how I see, a life of a though man in everywhere, in everyway.