Here the air is thick and stale
And tastes of ash
Which falls like hale
Whispers secrets once untold
Which scares the soul that's sick and frail

Here the land is shades of gray
The grass is dead
The trees all sway
Their gnarled branches snatch the hair
Of the weary traveler on the way

Collage of mix matched broken dreams
Ugly truths
And echoed screams
Lessons taught and soon forgot
All coarsely stitched at jagged seams

Quasi-shapes with projecting fright
That spit on hope
And mock the light
Polluting all that's pure and right
With grotesque figures dressed in lies

There is no sun
There is no wind
No way to go
No path to end
Just blurry circles round and round
Of burnt out road upon the ground

Here the shadows wander free
Attacking light
Attacking me
For I am here not dead or free
Lost in the plains of Purgatory.