All paths that lead to heart collide, as scores of vultures pass us by. They circle round here night and day And those few with hearts become the prey. Bones glistening in prolonged heat, become the foundation under-foot. This generation lies in defeat Zombie minds, blank stares treading On the souls they took. These vultures with their crude intent- Rip the soul, splattered shards cut, into the very bone. Talons stinging through the flesh, spreading blood as if it were disease. This inner scream ignites the mind, to wake up to the vivid scent Of paths that lead to heart inside A generation lost in descent.
Good! Very good use of imagery. I have a vision from your poem and I can see what you are talking about in my mind's eye. Peace and love
