That boy’s face…
Full of trepidation and fear,
Even in the stone-set state of evermore…
No more playful and curious eyes to turn upon.
Wield away the shadows passing through this place.
How restless…the mind of the dead.

Clarity comes in all forms.

That girl’s face…
Loss of purity and divinity.
Captured by the anguish of understanding too much,
Too deeply…
The youngest of years wiped clean by tragedy.

Revenge comes in all forms.

Now, the distortion of thoughts…
The trembling of hands…
Nothing more telltale than the flushed skin of the insane.
Never again to harbor the innocence of a child that stole away.
Hold back against the arms that claim you.

Pity comes in all forms.