Pretend soldiers

I only ever thought of you.
Through the trees the wind howls
Like locust eating wheat fieldsÂ
Where once weeds just grew.
The fields would have been usedÂ
To make our bread.
Now the fields are devastatedÂ
And all that there is is what theÂ
Locust left.
There would have been love, once.
Wine as your blood, too.
But instead we pretend soldiers,
Like we never had hearts to beginÂ
  with.
In the first place
Our mind's may have been free.
Before the time of the locust
Our mind's journey took us to Eden.
Before the time of sin
Took away reason.
And before the cold winds blew our
  very direction.
And those locust, again, devastatingÂ
The fields of wheat we used to make
Our bread;
A time love, yet, wasn't spent.
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Comments
There is an eerie mourning quality to this
I can almost hear the locusts in the deslote fields, the locusts in the desolate heart...
x
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As always thanks for reading eh