Witches cackle around their cauldrons
Wind blows cold bringing nothing but desolation
Stale tea stained breath beneath my pillow
Shallow hearts disappearing on every street corner
Etched faces in trees reminiscing of what was once mine
Everything’s eventual like the dimming of a star
Blind are those who see but not who hear
Builders of routine doomed to repeat
Lifeless souls simmer beyond the horizon
Losers over hero’s more real than celebrity immolation
Patriotic saints worshipping thrones rather than ages
People cease rather than seek the hurtful truth
Crawl to the night for the light never guides you through
Cauterize all wounds and banish all faults
Salt rusted lips anchoring love
Seasons of moonchilds calling for mothers lost touch
Suckling bosom tied in hands of corsetry
Saliva drips steady ready for the falling of bombs
Rescue noble youths for the honoured hours disperse
Repent for all those days that left without us knowing
Author S. K. Nicholas 
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