by Nick Gisburne
They seek the silver city of despair
The wretched, without number, without name
Their dreams, forgotten, lost, they know not where
Polluted by the secrets of their shame
The moment of arrival is at hand
A tide of weeping saturates the dawn
What stains their souls they do not understand
Too soiled, too sick, to ever be reborn
Behold the shining city, feel its pain
A prison, thick with blood and bone and skin
The screams for cold oblivion, in vain
Escape as twisted echoes from within
A silent, faceless beast unlocks the gate
It beckons them inside to meet their fate
