Moarer

She sings our songs
with broken eyes.
She sighs for the
better days to come.

For my just passing by heart
she weeps; lonely and dreary.

Eternity of solitude is our role,
in this forbidden play of relics
and ornaments of destruction.

Who are we to blame?
::when the primordial judgement rains.

Who are we but shame,
in the evening of her pain.