Dichotomy

Death of a Childhood.

Opening and closing doors,

the blood they've bled spilled into their barren moors.

Liars, cheats, and an innocence is called weak,

Scared at the table, not a wordless thought to speak.

A childhood is ending and a year will no longer hold true,

the moors, and the broke, brooks hold onto passed dues.

Breathe young ones, just breathe once more,

breathe and remember please.

I'm so sorry, my era is ending, and a tale before time... a wronged memory.

Don't forget the stories we've told, don't forget the hearts we helped mold.

Breathe. Remember. See.