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Wings On High

scarlet streaked hands reach toward the mirror

leaving bloody trails through wine glass mazes

and twisted images run amok

decayed fingernails reach skywards

in vain attempts to see the light

we're lost inside this twisted nightmare

and nothing but the screams of the haunted hold us here

we gaze skyward

drinking in the masses cloaked in despair and death

shining bright for all to see

we die slowly

as our scarlet streaked hands reach toward the mirror

leaving blody trails through wine glass mazes

Author notes

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Written November 10th, 2006

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