That is Quite the View

My soul (if i have one, the jury is still deliberating)

is a killing field

harsh and unforgiving

burned and salted

i could cry less

if i stopped trying to grow flowers

in the burnt out shell holes 

of long forgotten conflicts

if i stopped expecting anyone 

who journeys into this tomb like wasteland to stay.

i am only a thoroughfare

uninhabitable badlands of the long dead

endless footprints of smiling demons 

trailing outward. 

Away