He hurts

As he lies there in angst and
beat,
Continues to stare aimlessly.
Not a thought in his head for
days it seems,
Cannot comprehend the pain
 it brings,
He hurts,
He's stuck on life support.
His illness eating him away
starting with his inside core,
Heart being torn like an F-5
storming through a field of
corn, he's in rare form,
He hurts,
How much torture can one
sort of suffer,
Under the influence of Death's
Southern Comfort?
Underground sunburn from
the evil gods of all stones
unturned,
His soul burns,
He hurts,
His whole life he's been
denied
From all truths to only lies.
Only the bright skies can
eclipse his dark life,
And keep his stride wide
enough to keep him alive
He hurts.