THE HOME UNKNOWN

Life is so cruel.
Life moves on without caring
  whether anyone gets cast aside.
This machine moves on and on.
Devouring all those who dare stand in its way.
That's all these souls are.
Fodder for the machine.
It is insatiable.
Everyday it's the same.
Lost souls are being lost one after another.
Oh the lies that I hear.
Makes my ears bleed.
This place is suffocating.
The air is poisoned.
Hope is dead.
The suffering suffer.
It is no more.
The nothing has become nothingness.
I swear I hear laughing.
Is someone deriving some perverse pleasure 
  from all this?
I turn my gaze to the darkened skies.
What more is there?
How much more are we to endure?
It's so very cold.
It's impossible to rest.
Oh I so very want to.
But I know I just cannot.
Or I'd be stolen too.
So scorch the earth.
Raze all to the ground.
Bury the dead deep.
There is nothing more here.
But we are doomed to stay put.
After all, where are we going to go?
But I still feel a tiny little spark within.
It keeps me warm.
It keeps me alive.
It isn't much.
But it's all I have.
And I will hold onto it with all I can.
Even to my final breath.
This spark is mine.
Maybe someday I can let it spread.
Ignite all that is dead.
Bringing a new world.
A world that is alive.
A world with colour.
A world where we can breathe.
For now it's just a dream.
But I will keep it safe within me.
As its light shines.
Calling out to all who would hear.
Come home.
Come home.
All the tired and weary.
All the sick and afflicted.
All the used and the users.
All come home.
Just come home.

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY-(28/098/2012)