Font Color='#880000'shattered Screens/Font
No frames of reference gird this endless waste,
Where wounds drip, bleeding, fresh that will not scar;
A languid plane with nothing near nor far,
But hopes receding fast from dreams unchased.
Where comforts to the left and right were placed
No warmth, no light remains here where none are,
But those departed fearful through the door
Stuck ever standing still in cautious haste.
Could hopelessness be ever what it seems?
True love wont wander far ahead; It waits,
But not to be for those forsaken dreams
Or fallen prayers that guard us from its fate.
What answers lie behind these shattered screens,
Where cowards cannot pry nor penetrate?