Do you know how those same doting eyes
That used to fantasize and dream
Look upon you now with the burden
Of solemn dismay, and disbelief

A ravenous doubt that plows through
All the pretenses and mended fences
You were laid upon
At the height of your caterwaul

And you saw it all crumbling
Falling just the same
All the same visage
And grandeur of your fame
Your intertwined tails casting spells
Dispelling all the questions and whys
Those poignant, meaningless alibis

...Allegories with story-book covers
That we craft and confide

As if they could ever be dependable
Once the Earth begins to shake
If they could once compensate
For that broken faith
I'd have to say
That would be where I see God
Within the Incarnate

And maybe its only a quiet
Dismissive nod
Maybe it's merely
A promiscuous thought
Maybe it's just the path
We together fought
and sought
or bought
now wrought
Is an intentionally intentional façade
For a much more sinister cancer

There.
That's the answer.
Our armor is deep-rooted
The fence where we'd come to call
And cry out together
Has been abandoned and polluted

The vole never saw his own shadow
Once it became diluted
He didn't instinctively leave ground
Nor distinctly know all along
He was supposed to get out
Never understood he was trapped
By the soil surrounding him
That he desperately called home

His vacant throne
Alike his bleached and bare bones
Worn down
Crown cast aside
Cruelly mocking the echoing cries
Of powerful voices
and Names that long ago rang out
And they, too, reverberate on
While we so carefully make not a sound