Lost in a circle of toys,
they wait for layers of free skin,
Pulling large amounts of acid and cheese they crawl to corners far away from
the circle of riddles.

Folding their wings,sleeping in groups,
He comes,waiting in the shadows.
What are they to look for, He seeks fractured irritation, forced through the
cracks in the floor,
the children melt.

Posted on the bleeding walls: The Waste Land Of Children.
The darkened room floods with emotion those children,so small,
they cry because they can't pull away from him.

Getting angry they kill him, his blood their finger paint.Drawing
pictures,they play, lost in a circle of toys, the waste land of children.
 
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