Isle

Sitting amid a sea of blue,
A salted strip of land.
Homing only those not fitting,
Content with life, and pain

Never forced and always chosen
The isle brings, welcomes death,
For death is nothing, peaceful
Compared to life. Not chosen

Empty promises and unfulfilled dreams,
The world aches,
Aching subsides on the isle of the blessed
Aching drugged into submission.
By a salted strip of land.

Rushing water and glistening eyes,
Fall into its fiery depths,
The isle houses only temporary
Temporary life, before death.

Death freeing those who suffer
Not satisfied and punished for it,
They come in hordes
Seeking darkness
To end the light,
To end the day and start the night.