crackingmeadows

False Hopes

In a field of mellows and daisies 

Skeletons of death buried in roses
The gravest of truths they hide with pride
Yet they are pinned with honesty and success
 
 
In a lake of the darkest waters
The white doves lie low
Painted black but hearts red
They always hoped for a better tomorrow
 
 
In a world of war and blood
Death poses as peace
The poor gulls wish to be buried
As the last child flees