The Hoards

It's another broken day
With the pale sun setting
On the wastes of the forgotten country
So oblivious do they seem
Mourning for what they do not remember
Wasting every second
Scavenging a life
But though they live
With a sweet blossom smile
They are the restless
Searching for completion
For satiation and satisfaction
When they find nothing but nothing
Over and over again
Every day
Living a lie
Breaking and crumbling and falling apart
Every damaged, jaded day
And every day as the moon rises
And the sun falls prey to shadow
And the stars begin to glimmer
Their souls begin to crumble
Breaking down, down, down
To pools of dirt
And crystallised tears
Dropping to the bottom of their hollow hearts
The hoards of the forgotten
Eternally reaching out
And denied the comfort
Of belonging