Take to the iron barricade and hold the gate

until all the stars have fallen into shadow

They will come with dead eyes in the darkest night

the broken and wingless

to feed on the ashes falling

and drink from rain of a slaughtered sky

Yet the ground will not tremble beneath them

or bow and rise again at their passing

only in their souls will they feel what lies below

a tomb of wraiths whose faces they carved from flesh and bone

buried in the sands of time

that flow like floodwaters around them

always higher, reaching up to scour their eyes

to suffocate and bury and cast away

all memory of the passing of their broken shadows

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Hi, my name is Mitch, and I live in a fascist state.

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Photo by v2osk on Unsplash