Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
We draped ourselves in the failures of others
we hung ourselves on youth

in all the small places the people whispered
"there go they, pariahs of the dead faith,
stumblers in the dark...
watchers of bruised and battered hearts"

the news of it flowed swiftly from the cities
coursed through towns and markets
to eddie in the wild hills
and seep into the living hollows

there go we, alone

the last true believers of one another,
and an intoxicating madness we could not hold
Padan Fain
Written by
Padan Fain  Paradise
(Paradise)   
454
   Dornish Bastard
Please log in to view and add comments on poems