You sliced me
With your words
You broke me
With your eyes
You twisted me
With you sick logic

I crumbled under your fingers
Turned to dust
Scattered to the wind

This wound
Is still bleeding
Still hurting
And I don’t think
It will ever heal

You sliced me, broke me, twisted me
In ways
That I will always feel
Late at night
When my mind dares to wander
And I let myself think
Let myself fantasise
About the ways you had healed me
Even if it was only
To damage me
Yourself

Stark white columns
Against a painted sky
An ancient wonder
Crumbling
But enough bones
To form a skeleton
        A bustling society
        An age of innovation
And now
We visit
From our own wondrous world
        A bustling society
        An age of innovation
But
A facade is all we are shown
The wonder
Is always plagued
With horrors
        War torn cities
        Political slaughter
And death
So
Much
Death
History repeats itself
But no one
Will listen
To her cries of warning