Psyched

Two neighbors, the visage holds

Hiding so much more than they show.

The yearning rises, nice and slow

Drowned by their eerie glow.

The head is content, but the heart longs

For something that I yet know not.

Trinity scattered, but mirrors composed

Reflecting ahead the solitary road.

They look at the thumping stone within,

The unborn dead floating without.

The very foundation reduced to rubble,

Sticks and bricks lying about.

Still, the catastrophe is fascinating

The fear of reaper, volatile.

And here I walk laughing in the trenches of hell,

Step by step, mile by mile.