A promising death is only for the descent. In the dwelling of youth…it can transpire as…heaven sent.
No words can portray…Faded figures of dismay. Knives wielded and the blood of innocents only pictorial for display.
Desolate in the scene of a heart. A woman, a man, a child…within a nowhere land. Endings, that begin with no start.
On the sunlit days. Where one would speculate on times past. Increments of incidents…That go on for generations who live near to a darkened cast.
The young are isolated, upon rare moments of ill will. Subjects to unknown origin’s jagged pills.
To die a difficult and disturbing demise. Over and over, a child’s reprise.