by Westley Nash
Empty hollows echo the silence of hearts left broken...
The urge to repair bleeds out
from wounds cleaved deeply by the swords of an apathetic resistance
massing on the field of battle,
where all impetus of emotion is swiftly suppressed.
Of course such wars, they unleash daily!
But by the gods great mercy always safely tucked away from the prying eyes
of those who seek to render their aid.
For the stinging balms and coarse bandages they apply
serve only to further the conflict!
By giving life back to the charge,
but also warranty to the grievance.
Rousing the resting maelstrom from its dormancy.
Ready to grind up anything and anyone that's careless enough
to be caught within its spiteful fury!