They burn behind clouded optics
hiding from the sights outside,
and they lurk in bloody tissues
as if the sinews that grew
could glue them back together.
They burn in deep condensed sheets
a force of breathlessness
driven to uncover what it feels like
to touch sweet air.
They burn behind the unseen bars
unable to roll to freedom
lost to the world absent of allure
yet longed for still the same,
for that place
where tears must not fall.