Farm

Sleep eludes one with a heavy heart

Tears falling on a recently broken field,

Its rows ripe for planting hate filled curses

Which fill farmhouses,

Where fractured men

And dried up women

Mourn the crumbling shanty that once was home,

Dimming,

Like their once shining lives.

The children gone to better things

Most dead these past years

The little grave stones worn by

Wind

Rain

And snow

Leaving names and dates illegible to all

But the few who knew them

Winter come with icy fingers

Sneaking

Through

The black hearts which curse the pair

At night it howls,

Screaming death,

Lingering on shrinking bodies

Causing chills which no heat can infiltrate

Even spring has no reason

To visit this hell which resides

On this forsaken earth

This sea of revulsion that laps

At

Every

Detested

Spot

On

This

Unholy

Ground