The Eagle Volume 1, Issue 6 | Page 15

My requiem bears

the toll of a lone bell

not two, not three

just more hollow

But the fading drone

of a love of far away

Once here, now gone

Will do

A heart is never broken,

just charred from misspoken

sordid drippings

from both eyes and tongue

One's eyes, though livid

Are still blind and insipid

and wrought with a weariness

darkening their inkwells

Now I'm but half the title

Carnage after a cold war

Pristinely vivid, tear-blurred ruins

never quite as pure as before

And as I fret my endless slumber

Both my lungs are torn asunder

fraught with wracking sobs

Meant for none but maggots

-Anonymous