The Heartless
Shadows of void fill their empty shell;
not creatures of the living
nor any of hell.
Uncaring, unloving, unforgiving , not dead;
the labor of "being" they spitefully dread.
Not evil, not good, stuck there in between;
shrouded by darkness, as not to be seen.
Nonexistent, yet eternal………
everlasting hate - ?
- yet to hate is to feel, conflicting with fate.
Predestined to wander alone in the dark,
and not even knowing of 'souls' or of 'hearts' –
- nor caring or heeding the blighted enigma of 'life'
but simply enduring the never ending strife.
This is what is to be, for the purest of ones,
whose hearts are to shadows as is youth to the old.
But alas 'those' be warned:
the world is not what it should ,
what shines bright most often is not gold