Mounted high upon a pillar,
Through shards of glasses,
The view it pained,
Just a lot.
Scratchy whispering sounds in the ear,
Echoing in my mind.
Randomly flickering throught it,
It fell into a deep pit.
Many were present,
Many still missing.
These dreams,
They haunt.
They haunt,
Poking fun.
They haunt,
Taunting the soul.
Crushing the very spot,
Of hope into ashes.
Over across the desert,
Stood a shrine of worship.
A pile of rotten carcass,
In plain sight for all.
Blue skies they spoke of a liar,
Rich in ever gushing blood.
They set out,
In search of the place.