Psyched
Psyched
Two neighbors, the visage holds
Hiding so much more than they show.
The yearning rises, nice and slow
Drowned by their eerie glow.
The head is content, but the heart longs
For something that I yet know not.
Trinity scattered, but mirrors composed
Reflecting ahead the solitary road.
They look at the thumping stone within,
The unborn dead floating without.
The very foundation reduced to rubble,
Sticks and bricks lying about.
Still, the catastrophe is fascinating
The fear of reaper, volatile.
And here I walk laughing in the trenches of hell,
Step by step, mile by mile.