Stone Masks Fall

My war waged in a secret field of dead stars.

This society’s chained to folly gold bars.

I seek the solitude of loveless orb, Mars.

Deeds of mine have riddled my face with deep scars.

Bars invadeth the dreams that Time’s mistake tars.

-

I wake, spent, just as Earth doth knock on Death’s Door.

Eyes of Fire consume my morning’s doomed gaze.

I gawk—winter is coming; autumn parts ways.

Chill is itching to swallow light from Sol’s war.

The pain stabs in my mind, a dark maze.

My naught thoughts now unleash their might my words tore.

My war waged in a secret field of dead stars.

-

Flowers placed at the graves of younger dreams spent.

I grasp wilted and rotting lilies’ last gasp,

All my years that I hid myself away, clasp

My heart, masking my tears and worries’ ill bent.

I’m divergent of mind, and all my wants rasp

A last, rattling breath, now gone—a blown tent.

This society’s chained to folly gold bars.

-

I would but chance a glance around this last dance,

But I am terrified of all the swift spins

Of this doomed globe and orbits that decay—sins

Run fast into the shadows cast by Sol’s Glance.

I am told by wishful hopefuls that love wins.

I’m told, but, even so, I spit at love’s chance.

I seek the solitude of loveless orb, Mars

-

Surely shown, my face, I now lose my Love’s grace.

Hiding truths the shadows will now reveal me.

Guise laid bare, wrought ill by a cracking heart’s sea.

Witness, here, this woman doth scratch my worn face,

Scratched with eyes that judge—all my cracks her scopes see.

Grace forgives, but she does not want to match pace.

Deeds of mine have riddled my face with deep scars.

-

Souls will speak of a longer journey spent well,

Afterlives with a god or two to watch all.

Aching lives with a drive to reach this faux call,

Crawl their way into doom—a struggle makes hell—

Doppelgängers of Death, as Lemmings’ last fall.

Bent on peace, they attract a cozy, steel cell.

Bars invadeth the dreams that Time’s mistake tars.

-

Gods wrought dreams of people and brightened night stars.

Man’s made ills contained what they hoped in cold bars.

Wrath quakes well intents of our hopes to reach Mars.

Stone Masks fall, revealing our truths, the old Scars.

Time’s rich work infects, as, our lungs, the hate tars.

-

I hope each path we take will end our pain

And, that the soil beneath, our lives won’t stain.