Across the Plains of Soul

Ash and stricken. Raked and ruin. Blood baths battered. Tickled thru torture. Ghosts of loves past haunting and spooking. Poor choices making once richness a dessert of barren old pain. Her head pondering lost across times miss fortune. Moving on like a mower over brown lawns. How her hauntings richness so much richer then pain, anguish in ashes of pure disdain. Her toy tormenting. Toying in her torment. This walk across souls siberia. Hope in liberation. Each sunset a new dawn of beginning. Begging to be forgotten. Erasing static stains. Only thru immense pain can true loves remain. Saintly sands transforming the man. Barren wastelands walk to transform wells of water into wishing pools so pure and clean that her face will never be seen. Her bloody hands will never be spoken. Her tentacles cut, ship sails free. To sail on reaching paradise across this barren Sea.