61: it used to be worse

it used to be worse
with those burnt-out demons
hiding back in those caves
of repressed hate and hate again.

every once in a while
they sneak out quietly,
past their curfew of normal daily life,
the day job done and signed out for.
at night those innocent heads were riddled with
Satan's thoughts and typical hell.

The fire never seemed so real before.

60: fashion's daughter

The tragic excuse of the tired sense of shadow lurking.
still they follow, in an honest pursuit
for the hope of the most famed and wonderful
days in a snow globe of the collection.

but she knows the kind who shares the
similar rest of all real thoughts,
abiding in the Law unchanged.
shifting the fears, she leaves the room
and opens the other doors.

59: Scorch'd

Paintings burned beautifully into the eclipse of the sun,
and the colours streamed together into a charry, muddy mess.
Never did it leave against the dry wood,
burning together like old, exhausted friends.
Later picking up the paintbrush once more
with an instinct to start,
though he can't help but smell smoke
from the remains of lost art.

58: chandelier

A trophy call to hang frames of crystal,
prism-like, the faces seen and multiplied. Razor-edged glass.
Never noticed indoors, only seen from the out.

57: Over/Under

Overseas they're under siege;
anonymous hate and toys to destroy them - allocated.
They hide
while they seek, while we watch,
old critique. What a terribly difficult
game we have, here.