Tethering between the lines, a forsaken word, somewhere underneath-the withering souls.
Mask of deterioration, erosion of the well meaning,
a mammoth of a cocoon, a shaky shelter
-huddled together, crammed space, void of comfort,
as we searched to find a home, to make our own shore
a resting place for the former, a sobering tombstone.
I wanted to be led by her, to her warm embraces, to succumb to her touches.
But we arrived to nowhere, where dreams fade away
and reality kicks you back to your head.
Obsidian
Moderators: The Heralds, The Loremasters