Clash of the Titans

I wander lonely through the land,

So barren and dead

So brown and grey

No piece of dirt has been unvisited

This place is our kingdom

Where my pack rests from hungry long journeys

Yet the chasm of alone gnaws

Wrapping its icy fingers

‘Round my heart.

This worn dirt path

Solidly packed by hundreds of feet

Trudging through it everyday

Mocks me as its sharp rocks pierce

The leathery soles of my tender feet.

I take shelter in the grass

Dead and rough,

But not so punishing.

We watch in silence

As little princes stalk by us

Welcomed by the cruel tough road.

They turn their heads

And stab us

With their dagger eyes

They cling like wet leaves

To their pillars

Who stride with noble steps and yet

Hold the hands of the shrimps with such care.

More princes, almost kings

Come romping by

Their smooth pale fingers point callously

Accompanied by raucous laughter,

Their shiny shoes send up stones

Almost as jagged as they.

Shredding our flesh and

Threadbare shirts.

We stop forward

With clenched teeth and fists

Our beast aroused

And desires unsatisfied,

We fly as one at those rulers unkind.

And as they flee with pride

Abroken and cuts to match our own

In our world splashed by red.

- Pathmark Express