Redrum

There is a brick war, between soul and concrete, with the building unaware of the soul’s intangibility.

Floating through concrete, and yet falling like a rock. Sinking deeper and deeper into sin.

Trapped, like a rat in a cage, is the brain in the skull.

Moving, but still, and going nowhere.

Round, yet cut in half like an apple, are the body’s eyes.

Seeing, and having the ability to see, yet separated from reason.

The skull is just an adult version of a soccer ball, tossed and kicked around by life.

What toys were once used by kids, now have morphed into guns for man-children in their strife.

What were once young, are now old enough for war.

Broken and cold-hearted bedroom-dwellers, with disorders; snatched away from their caves, by desperate cowardly leaders.

Too old to open new doors, and too stubborn to close old ones.