Junior

Cities are washing out, and you’re chewing on teeth leadings, praying that we’re wrong. You don’t say anything because there’s power in words, but it feels like even your mind is screaming out loud, still clutching a brass idol to your chest, you swallow it all down because you’re to proud. And now a plague has reached the gates of your heartland, it’s borne in the blood, carried with love; you get scared and cut love, you shut it away, and let the rest bleed out in the sun. Of the old world, so you fight against change, you bathe in the stained glass light of a broken home, and wet the sand with our children’s lives.