Fingers trail across the floor
desparatly trapping...

Pack your bags
it time to go...

An angel weeps up above
as little ones are lead to certain death...

A beautiful doll
placed on the top shelf...

Lanterns shine as few walk
across a frosted surfaced lake...

Head in the clouds
feet drifting off the ground...

Shredding butterfly wings
shattering light-hearted magic...

Begging for love
not disgust...

We blindly march
into violent battles...

Moths to a flame
they fan and feather...

Beauty and grace
a voice leaving men...

Stitched wounds embed the soul
wanders left out in the cold...