Keep the ground
long and steady.
As the birds weep
and weary of those
dreaded nights.

Mourning the death
of those that died.
Hating the living that
rise and dine.

Our inner demons
While us humans
have a wasteland
to fill to the brim.

This Inner Wasteland
is our sanctuary;
we write down our
poems with stationary.

The voices in our head
scream and cry.
Nothing but a
fight to keep the sanity
of our young ones.

Lucidly bleeding
from the hearts
within each of us.

We call the demons
within to give us hope.
Praying on the lesser gods
of evil.

We are the Inner Wasteland
and devour all that is good.

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