Fracture of the Word
Made empty is the word of many.
So much pain and sorrow to follow,
We will soon know the worth of the penny,
For that is the worth of the lies we swallow.
So fix me a test,
Grand may it be,
But fail to appease the rest,
The desires of society.
Never again so broken,
The pieces, put together be they can not,
To bring back the shatter and weakened,
His horses and men fought.
Still no magic present
In the land of woeful solace.
Here I remain regressent
Weighing on that broken promise.