Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Treachery beyond our own confined logic.
Ruptured silken dreams of angelic souls.
Wilted, withered and bleak doth appear the rose.

Ghosts of  past scenes, dashing unto our fright.
Their graves lost, plundered for mere gold.
Upon our stage, their bones stand.

Souls scattered crossed our vast land.
Contrite their people live.
For they have nothing left to give