Loveless
My reality
from fabric of molten nightmares
is sown ,
thread by thread,
button by button
by the hands of the dead
soul.
Where I go,
I leave cobwebs,
when I leave,
it rains
ice,
fire,
hatred.
I don't know
the smell of love.
Unwelcome.
Forgotten.
Unloved.
How could my thoughts
shape reality?
Do you think
my ongoing war
will bring the demise of people?
I don't know
the smell of love,
the taste of love,
I don't know...