War Torn Skies Poem by David Lacey

Ancient asylum
War Torn skies
Ruins - ash - cinder
The taste of blood soaked soil
All chaos consumed within
The rage of the aeons.
I find myself in a room with a girl
Short blonde her
Lost
Confused
As I
She looks worried but more than worried
Dismayed and terrified
The walls of the room were black with filth
We are alone
And the feeling ensues that not one other soul
Graces these horizons for we are alone.
No home is this to call our own.
Black with filth and smeared rust blood
As though they had not been used since the days of the asylum
But no reason was there to assume this as sanctuary for unfiltered minds
Apart from the visions in my mind, unfiltered visions of future surreal
A future past and present were all I could feel at once.
Visions of horror, torture long since lost to the memory of the world
Women screaming in concentration, children burnt and slaughtered
And in that very room a thousand rapes of innocence.
Nurses mutilating patients with dire satisfaction.
The girl in the room with her holds me as I have my visions
I lay shaking, sweating, and crying at the pain of these memories
And as she grabbed my shoulder I shout, yawping louder than any
Barbarian may have imagined the human voice could muster
I claimed the horrors I could see, woman had been raped and debased
Within these walls, and the pain was sickening and then the girl
In the room grabbed my shoulders and I shout up my head looking
Directing into her eyes which had become planetary masses of moon light qualities
And a star appeared on her forehead and we were one in an instants flash
At this point I awoke, sweating, with the vision of this asylum in my mind.