Through autumn mist, past the shadowing trees,
Down the dirt path, reduced to mud and sludge.
Lay the shambled structure of memories
Of madness and the remains of a grudge.
The mass of it all has torn through the wall,
Leaving all that lies within to bleed out.
Shards of window glass have met their fall.
So nothing resides there but restless doubt.
Underneath its bulk lay one troubled soul,
No longer alive, yet death has not come.
It wastes from wounds that have taken their toll.
A scream that’s been muffled into a hum.
Oh tragedy, the mist will not cover,
The shadowy wreck of a lost lover.
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