PixelTribe

Black onyx statues They stand, rooted; Seeping into The cold pavement Beneath their base.No hope lingers here; Everyone is aware Of their own mortality And lone spirits sneer At the next passerby crowd With streams of blood Gushing through their veins, While their hearts Remain as vacant As the tombs here.Those who enter this place Do so willingly Out of realization that They’ve got nowhere to go; No needy hands Reaching out for them In the dead of night.They reach in vain For the sun’s blinding rays, Kneeling before these Onyx saints, Waiting for them To gesture a signal They’ve been anticipating All their lives.If only they knew That the...