Faces
Damp
But the well
is dry.
People die,
bodies piled high,
touches the sky,
touches heaven infact,
but their souls
race back
down to
hell.
Blood soaks the streets,
mixes with tears,
love slowly
wilts
and cuts open fears.
Drains the
wounds
Drains the
heart
Drains the
life,
Drains the
hope.
It melts,
trickles,
down,
every face.
But yet
the well
stays
dry........