Walk the line

A poem inspired by an old movie that I saw with Robbie Benson. Walking Proud

Walk The Line

By Shawn P Cassidy

He walks the line with a dead man’s calm,

No tremor in his breath, no lifted palm.

Fear doesn’t touch him'' it died long ago,

Buried in the places only shadows know.

His ribs crack loudly beneath unseen blows,

His vision dims as the darkness grows.

But he keeps moving forward, refusing to fall,

A ghost in the making who still hears the call.

He’s a man rebuilt from ruin and fire,

A creature shaped by loss and quiet desire.

He once roamed the streets like a weapon of fate,

But now he seeks freedom

from the life he helped create.

The brothers he trusted now spit at his name,

Their loyalty twisted to venom and blame.

They brand him a traitor, a coward, a stain,

Eager to carve their truth into his pain.

When the beating is over and he drops to his knees,

When his eyes swell shut and his breath starts to freeze,

He feels something rising'' a strange, sacred plea,

A whisper that says

he was meant to break free.

And in that silence, where the world turns black,

He sheds the last weight

that held him back.

© 2026 Shawn P. Cassidy. All rights reserved