Empty
utopia never meant to be inhabited
Such
dreamy hearts playing architects of a low ilk
They
conjured an illusory order to those gossamer castles
Concealing
the murderous reality, writing those wishful fables
Patent
crevices on those flimsy structures ignored
Grim
shards of skin spread where the dead ghosts roared
Dead
with no face assume a deceptive appearance
Sharp
claws betray the marks of the beasts in reference
Lofty
dreams all gone by an unruly maelstrom
Cradling
the monsters in those tattered clothes dancing feverishly in a prom
A
world once ripe with warmth, now brims with shadows drowning consciousness in
path
What
fills the sight is a sad fate of discarded bones of absent lovers,
And
a jaundiced bequest of want possessing the cadavers
Two
specters trampled under the stomping feet of obvious choices
How
the monopoly time once choked their cooing voices
They
still live as a jumble of ghosts under the myth of salvation
Their
stitches toying with their wounds, flaunting abject privation
