The Staggerer

With a lasso round the neck,
The faceless master-
A cold blue face,
And, rolling red robes,
Drags about a man-like beast.
He stumbles, he yelps,
He whimpers, he pleads.
But, the brute drags him along,
On an endless journey
Along a stony path.
Where the water lays still,
No moss, no weed.
The cries are unheard.
The feet shuffle and kick.
The crimson knees,
Bend and trip.
But, he drags along.
His mouth agape.
The eyes haunted.
The soul hunted.