Besieged from Inside


Valhalla is a well of ghosts

built too high, amongst life

a tough hewn pillar of cold

that promises sustenance

but kills everything around


Its shadow is its echo

deep and rasping

as the fall down slop

of bucket thrown roughly

an empty roped tear


All energy poured into protection

last drop further than longest root

for the day when water is needed

and the world dries, flooded by death


Asgardians ponder battle as children

as clouds bleed clean walls

muck from cobbed shields

air rents with dull swords

all they do is cheer, in their staleness


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