Tombstones melting into a vacant hilltop.
Faceless figures cry out from the earthy rubble.
A beast stares with cold black eyes.
Its right claw trembles.
Its left, gripping despair.
Thump... Thump... No more sound.
Dead branches now crow to the frigid winds.
It is done.
Dreams are for fools.
The souls of turmoil dance on despair.
Rust is the skin of the new land.
The grim beast steps on glass shards.
Glass that once contained truth.
The truth about a happier time.
No comments:
Post a Comment