Tears drop on the smoldering fire
Burning echoes reaching from the grave.
Angels strive, beckoning onward
Demons cry, no contact has been made.
Prophets speak of lies in season
To clarify a future wrapped in chains.
With staggered footsteps they shuffle off blindly
Having eaten their sins fresh off golden plates.
No saviours come to try and find you
There are no dreams to come.
Truth resides in a bottomless chasm
Restrained forever, sight blinded by the bones.
Lying in repose here beside you, silent screams abound
Willful dreams will always find you, the beating of your heart makes no sound.
Thanks, Steph. This kinda came from all the time I've been working. Would get a sentence or thought, write it down, bring it home, put it in my bowl. When I finally got the time, put them together and viola, there it was. Weird way, but it seemed to work.