Widened Wings

Ah well, it was worth the effort, right?

Worth spiralling through linguistics,

Peeling back layers of brain tissue,

Delving so deep into the soul that

The Devil started seeming like he did

Pretty honest work after all.

.

Oh well, nothing to be done but pick up

The little pieces of sanity scattered about,

Give the old dog, Dream, a pat on the back,

And start working on carving that tombstone.

.

Someone should know that something

Great enough to have wings,

Died here among the piddling masses.

They should know the kind of effort

Poured into the dog when it was

Clear it wouldn't survive.

.

The cat, Luck, died two decades ago now

So there wasn't a fair shot for Dream.

No medical advancements in the saving

Of pretty things with wide open wings.

.

There should be a landmark

For that kind of gross failure.

Let it be built with blistered hands

Still bloodied with Dream's end,

Coated too in the dirt of Luck's grave.

Maybe then Memory will be born.