Enchanted by the madness
that's engraved in our souls.
It rains within our minds,
the thunder obscene.
Lightning strikes our bodies,
deforming our very thoughts.
A plant grown by steroids -
never to be consumed.
The moon captured in its waning crescent,
almost completely devoured by darkness.
A young child calling out for her father,
though no one ever comes.
A flock of sheep in a perplexing field,
running from The Shepherd.
Like birds, we fly to be free
but it was our own stupefaction that locked us in.
This lunacy carves us
until we are just stones in the damned ground,
eroding away in the night.
About the Creator
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