A baptism in hell

known by the  murderers, and those

of  ******* loss of soul...

They didn't know they knew...

is what they found out...

They hunger for mystical rain on their cheeks

walking down a lonely street.

They search for  requiem and

pulsating warmth of life,

anticipated as a gift...

That is the sting!

Mother's milk like honey from a flower

cannot save them.

Tragic to miss creation in

the chaos of their destruction.