Shreds of reality within my grasp

Always within my grasp…

I hear them scream sometimes,

Full of fear, full of fright.

They're simply bleeding though.

Nothing to be frightened of,

Nothing to be shocked of.

Nothing more.

Only a few scratches, minor scratches…

Limbs torn off here and there.

Nothing more.

Chest heaving from hearts beating.

And throats bleeding

With much grieving.

Nothing more.

In a small quiet room,

They stay.

Crying and weeping,

Groaning and begging.

Nothing to be done.

Nowhere to go.

Nothing more.

I suppose it's ironic.

They're brave men.

They came to slay,

But had nothing today

And nothing to say.

Hardy, courageous questors.

Failures nevertheless.

Only dark shadows lurking about

And little creatures sneaking upon them.

Brave men, they are.

I'm sure they wouldn't mind

Being torn apart just a bit more.

Nothing more.

Ah…

More screaming…

Strangely enough,

I don't feel remorse

For those brave men,

Who yelp like puppies

And scream as little girls do.

Ah, and might I add all are welcome

To visit this certain place, of course.

Then, those can share the fate

Of these brave, dauntless men.

Nothing more.