Bryen Kurdst

Valley

In a si goglin fissure where water should flow

seeps blood of those who roll dice and never grow.

Washed upon it\'s foggy banks, deposits of rust

left behind by selfish fucks who warrant no trust.

 

The inhabitants had to drink the water, you see...

Run out of rocks to suck minerals from recently.

Now they\'re too weak too claw out of this rut of earth,

nor did they know their cry to the world came still birth.

 

Nobody knows how they got there, and nobody cares.

The workers were worn and children keep making bold dares

to return from the river old tools we use to connect.

But the rust causes blindness and will soon take effect.

 

In a fortified fracture, long since neglected

are false securities that must be protected

from age old terror that\'s repeatedly begotten.

Fact turned to fiction, and fiction was forgotten.