Decay

Box shaped hearts and bloody roses.

Fast lane, life's marching onto death;

With coffins richly lined in silk and satin.

 

Manicured iron claws clasping;

At a World that forgot its tears;

Killing love, heightening fears.

 

Many machines marred by a machine;

Wheels grinding in shallow souls;

Sights set on selfish dreams.

 

And all will waste and decay.