Spiraling downwards in bloody battle
But lulled by the stresses of life
one side goes to sleep
Dreaming… dreaming
Not hearing the constant beat
Of the winners drums, ringing loud through the stillness
Showing no mercy, taking no pity
On their faithful followers’ minds
The drums keep them entranced
As their leader chants
“we strive for perfection”
The followers left their families behind, covering them in dust
No worry, they won’t be missed; they were just failing worthless dumps
But when they run, they are somebody
and soon their life will be perfect
Besides, they don’t need anyone anymore
Just the beat of the drum, the beat of their heart
Their feet hurt, soles worn thin
And they feel strong, whole, and supernatural while they
Run
Minds fixated
They run through the streets of strange towns
People yell at them to stop their crusade
But they will not stop until they get there
The darkness swallows them, engulfing them in its sorrows
Crushing their frail bones
All hope for return vanishes with the light
But still they keep running
Control and Willpower seize their veins
Now they are running in place
They grab cold metal shovels out of the darkness and begin to dig
Slowly at first, then quicker and quicker
Always moving to the beat of the drum
They cry and wail for they cannot stop
Not stop running, not stop digging
Their legs, arms, and bodies hurt
But they will not stop
Until their hearts give out
And their souls give in and they
f
a
l
l
down into the grave they dug, skin icy cold.
This open post was written 10 months, 1 week ago | V/U/S: 111, 0, 1 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post
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