There are those who tread through fields
of shattered glass; the broken remnants
of dreams of innocents. Blood tinged memories
of a ghastly existence; where reality is mirrored
in the hopeless reflection of damp eyes.
The Queen of Hearts is a regular visitor here;
inspecting the toll from another day’s harvest.
And as the reaper grins at her, his consort, the wails
of anguish from lost souls meld with echoes
of the reaper’s triumphant victory chant and disappear.
The mists of time converge on these fields
and wash away the last vestiges of wasted lives as the
reaper and his queen await another day; another day
when the victims of deep despair are purged of all spiritual
dignity and reft of their lacerated souls.
