proudly ranks the ruin above
no fingers reach, and hope can’t feel…
And burned to ash are many dreams,
thoughts are void, emotions crimes,
and many hearts as so it seems
are covered with the dust of times.
We only see what we now are,
what we should have doesn’t count.
We go through motions blind, too far
on empty streets, around and ’round.
A man like many stares for worth,
with lack of mimic he now yawns.
Mirrorless, the eyes stare forth,
helpless to the end of dawns.
Wind lies down on empty hand,
as fingers scratch on plaster rough,
they break what hope and home once meant,
and have from mankind just enough.
a thousand souls now yearn for hold
never dare they take each other by the hand…