Pretend soldiers

I only ever thought of you.
Through the trees the wind howls

Like locus eating wheat fields 

Where once weeds just grew.

The fields would have been used 

To make our bread.

Now the fields are devastated 

And all that there is is what the 

Locus left.

There would have been love, once.

Wine as your blood, too.

But instead we pretend soldiers,

Like we never had hearts to begin 

   with.

In the first place

Our mind's may have been free.

Before the time of the locus

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 locus, again, devastating 

The fields of wheat we used to make

Our bread;

A time love, yet, wasn't dead.