The smell of rain reaches not this land,
Neither does beauty nor love,
Ugly things come forth from darkness,
As it is forgotten by the world above.
Once upon a time did this magic place prosper,
Based upon an intricate matrix,
Now that the catalyst had turned to dust,
Blood and poison is all that will mix.
One cannot say this place as barren,
For the beings here are not dead,
But neither are they truly living,
They no longer know fear nor dread.
Tears have fallen,
Tears have dried,
Old wounds torn open,
Because of hidden lies.
She flew back to her birthplace,
Now bedecked in shrouds,
It used to be her home,
But now it's just a house.
Big and empty,
There it stood,
Amongst the debris,
Of her broken childhood.
Many things have changed,
But her heart remained the same,
Ever scarred, ever fragile,
From playing life's game.
Maybe she shouldn't have descended,
But stayed afloat in the clouds,
Where they covered the agonizing truth,
Where she was farthest from that house.
The smell of rain reaches not this land,
Neither does beauty nor love,
Ugly things come forth from darkness,
As it is forgotten by the world above.
