Once Upon a Figment of Human Imagination

It will all end the same 

despite the war

beneath the stones 

that killed brothers and sisters

and their dreams

but they died

all the same

and I suppose that is all

that can be said

for the death of a dream

amongst the great vortex

vast ocean

of blood

where the stoned dreams drift

subject to the tide

And where is the mind of a child to hide?

But inside of the womb

the imprisoning tomb

where they anticipate life

but only to find

soon enough they will wish to be

let back inside

their brains washed 

soaked

scrubbed clean

not a bit of an inkling

not a singular gleam

of a 

dream

salvaged?

from the raging waters

the tide proceeds...