In the land of the wasteful
The flesh is bound to despairing
Unmovable feasts
All dreams dreamt away
In the shallows of sleep
As transient as blood
Orange shades of clarity
In the mind blindly
seeking sun
sincerity and kindnesses
Not those in the land
Of the wasted…
Pain is as hollow and as full as
The hearts of mannequins
When already the broken who pose
Now lets go, passed long ago
Since childhood's end
Not having known
To recognize
Or find oneself
In the beauty of a world
We played pretend.
In the land of waiting
For our sadnesses to end
Waking up alone
After all
In the land of ungrateful men.
(The kind have gone extinct
once again.
The End.)
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
In the land of the wasteful
The flesh is bound to despairing
Unmovable feasts
All dreams dreamt away
In the shallows of sleep
As transient as blood
Orange shades of clarity
In the mind blindly
seeking sun
sincerity and kindnesses
Not those in the land
Of the wasted…
Pain is as hollow and as full as
The hearts of mannequins
When already the broken who pose
Now lets go, passed long ago
Since childhood's end
Not having known
To recognize
Or find oneself
In the beauty of a world
We played pretend.
In the land of waiting
For our sadnesses to end
Waking up alone
After all
In the land of ungrateful men.
(The kind have gone extinct
once again.
The End.)
Time travel is forbidden. So speaks the mind.
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