The dark forest edged upon
the fields of running blood,
not far from the conquered
civilization that lies behind
the survivors who have,
in sorrow, waded through it.
In a single file line
we utter no words as we walk past our
dead ones, now destroyed from within
and marked from the plagues
from which are scratched
on their bodies.
I was sleep walking
a thousand years ago,
but I could still smell
the already rotting skins
and burning hair.
The men, women and children
are piled alongside the
roads to desecration.
My hands are bloodied against
the iron chains of the future,
our captors are angry
because they do not know the way
through the ancient forest.
I couldn't comfort the other slaves
because I do not know their language.
Deeper and deeper we walked
into the morning mist,
as the voices and screams
wither away in the distance.
I could cry, I was probably crying
the entire time. the blood and horror
have kept me dreaming until
one day, I couldn't dream no more.
I woke up with my heart
still bleeding in the forest
that continues to rain blood
from the storms of the jungle-like abyss.
