.
There are halls
where non-things
are kept.
Dead gods
undiscovered sins
paths not taken
There are many
of these halls
they stretch forever
I know but
one
of these halls.
The Hall
Of Broken Dreams.
At first glimpse
it seems a
wondrous place
of love and
peace and
excitement
but
the more you look the more you see and the more you see
the more you understand the nature
of
this
place.
Despair
grins from the
middle of the room
Betrayal
swings
from the ceiling
Death
sings
high and melodious.
Here
romantics watch their loves
in the arms of demons
Here
you cut yourself
on the shards of happy childhoods
Here
idealists are tortured
and their spirits snapped.
Dragons
are tin models
Mermaids have
dead fish eyes
Unicorns
are eaten
A pegasus
is staked
to the floor
A griffin
burns
in silence
An elf
is skinned
alone
The trees of youth
lie crushed
The playthings of children
are corruption incarnate
The shadows
are dead
The sunbeams
rotted
On the floor
On the ceiling
On all the walls
Everywhere you look
You see
Failure
and
Corruption
of hopes.
And behind
it all
Death
sings
High and melodious.
This entry was posted
on Friday, January 20th, 1995 at 00:00 20 Jan 1995 and is filed under writing.
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