To Find, To Rule, To Overcome

Taunting the senses with every stride,

An ambush on the pure mind.

Devouring the darkened innocence,

Regurgitating the flesh.


The components of the bitter stare,

Have vanished from control.

Leaving behind the hidden chains

To grow around the bone.


The clustered thoughts seek guidance,

But wise the skin is not.

The inner works are failing,

The outer works live on.


Marks are painted, cracks are plastered

As the dead stroll along.

Wandering into fear,

Where the blind hearts belong.

View nash's Full Portfolio