Fallen down,
lost and grieving.
Golden flowers greet a lost soul,
"Broken be the child?"
It whispers.
Hand clutched to heart,
the rain begun.
Alone, lost, forgotten.
“By myself again.”
"My child,"
Gone the flower, stood a new face.
"Please do not shed tears."
Your friends await to greet you to this new place.
“**** or Be Killed” a familiar echo came through.
Forget them all you had a mission to see through.
Broken be the child,
a bloodied knife in hand.
"Gone are your friends."
The flower sang.
"They never stood a chance."
Little different than what I usually do! I've found myself a new muse so I've been working from that. Sorry for being so inactive!