The moon rises as the light fades into darkness, casting shadows and fears of our lurking hidden childhood monsters
When will you purge the past that cultivates and nurtures deadly mold?
Loving the imperfection of your perfect picture
Once a barren desert of broken dreams
Now a field of desire and hope grows
It is also a place owned by all and that is where I begin....
Tears of hope roll down my dry cheeks
There is no face or sound to go with this predator after its prey, only the oppressing feeling of dire and the need to be free from its touch-less grip.