Coldness

Hopeless flies
the arrow
hard
against the wind,

a cry in the distance
of the desolation
of a desperate heart,

a sudden stop
within the enigmatic
eye of the storm.

The revolution
passes by,
and silhouetted faces
smile,

furrowed brows
masked by shadows,
and cloaks of falsehood
like a masquerade.

The drum rolls,
and bells toll
with an uncertain harmony.

Alone,
I sit on an iceberg,
and watch the loveless sea,
as the continents
float away into my dreams.

Take the children in,
and drain the blood.

There'll be carnage
in a bit.