Shadows

The old woman told a story. About a young girl on a beautiful white horse. She danced on her heels, flowers in her hair and her hands. Dreamed of far-fought wars and glimmering swords. Of forts climbed and pebbles in the sand.

And the monsters walked into their gardens. They were scaled and green, wearing masks of fear. Shadowed cloaks trailed them. They tread in uncertainty. Wolves howled in sorrow and rains lashed at them. They were large and grey, and they crushed everything in sight. Their eyes pierced death into the victims. Killed their hopes, ravaged their minds. Left them crying, their souls in distress.

And the monsters served her in her head. She tried to slay them, but she could not. She tried not to fall to them, but she would not. She tried not to lose her mind, but she had to. The hallowed gods looked upon her no more. The flowers in her hair wilted away.

And the nightmares came calling in their dreams.

Lost

What's the worst thing that could ever happen to you? A terminal illness, a life without hope, a wasted passion? Your beliefs destroyed, your character in pieces? Or death? Let's start from there.

Where do you run to, when you are lost?
Who do you turn to, when you have no one?
Is there a way out for the damned?
Is fear the only truth, hidden after the sun?

Is there a dance that no one watches?
Why do angels kiss, if they sing and pray?
Tears do not buy you life or reverence;
A promise, a river, a lie they all said.

Tell me, silence me, then tell me the truth,
The water runs quick, shimmering and blue;
Nightingales talked of love and killed with arrows,    
Circles of fate, and so many fools.
                               
I'm lost and so are you. I don't know what to do and neither do you. Life is a cruel master and its puppets are bound. They are dancing; drinking in fairytales. Slaves to fate, and to circles of fate. Why do we learn? Why do we yearn? Just to fall as prey.