The Mournful

In the realm of memories

Sit and reminisce

Of the better days

Picking through the black cables

Of remembrance

And through the sickly green quagmire

Of all things lost

With a six inch sheet of metal

That whispers in their ear

Of the worth of all they

Hold dear

Going insane

From the pictorial realms

Randomly generated

That keeps them addicted

To fuzzy sweet nostalgia

Of days in the park

Of fanfare long gone

Each realm

Jolts the pain

Jump starting the

Emptiness in their souls

But they are so addicted

To the bliss

Of friends gone forever

Of memories left in

The nuclear quagmire

Made from human tears

The greedily sucks in

The wealth of the world

Everything that meant anything

And we try so hard

To ignore it

To keep a clean black and white line

But memory haunts our dreams

And the forgotten beg for our pathos

But they lie forgotten

Even though the mournful reach towards them

Trapped in the Shadowlands

But all is lost

In a old grave yard

With head stone long grown by weeds

And the tears of some child who doesn't know why they cry