Golden all around me,
rough grass bleeding through the dry ground,
this place seems so dead,
something I can appreciate,
something I can relate,
Looking at the sky,
azure with but a hint of yellow from the descending sun,
I see that this place is just another suffering beauty neglected by whatever God has descended upon our Earth.
From what I see we are not the only forsaken beings out here,
silver lynx run free,
flitting from end to end of this undead space,
terrorizing every little grey and white creature in their path,
their eyes darting back and forth,
I notice this from the subtle glint of what was once a soul.
But these creatures,
so driven by blind hate that their movements now echo ungodly bloodlust,
were once a servant of heaven,
progeny of a good God,
feeding only upon the sick and broken,
to give them quick passage from undying pain,
playing with each other like brothers,
like friends,
like lovers.
All is gone, however,
in the kingdom of golden death,
high peaks casting shadows from a once blissful sun,
and only me to watch as hell takes its hold.