Barbed Wire

There is a barbed wire fence around my home,
It is not necessary, but it still stands there,
pointed and vigilant like a night watchman,
waiting for company that it can quickly deny access.

It has stood for years now, in the desolate town I live,
No neighbor has questioned its existence,
But instead accepted its silver wrapped coils
And allowed me to lie in the middle, watching out the window.

Through windy weather it rattles, like an old wooden shutter,
Smacking against a house in a twister,
Yet it has never fallen, and continues its duty
Protecting a home that needs not protection.

But when there is no cloud in the sky, it stands there,
shimmering in the rays of the sun,
lonely without enemies to jab mercilessly,
it is not tall nor proud, but rather droops back to my house.

The barbed wire fence hugs my home tightly,
It strangles the paneling, caressing the molding lumber,
It smiles as it shakes my hand to greet me,
Leaving it bleeding red, dripping down the sides.