Dreams of my youth, unending corridors of battles, abandoned hallways from lively people, embraced by death and toxic vapor.
Dreams of love, sadistic behavior, blades on his claws, and spikes on his tongue.
Dreams of peace, a shattered country completed with forgotten dreams, dowagers stained black with the dust of the war, shedding music of fear, and troops of orphans begging for new souls.
That was my nightmare. You don't want to be there.

Poem and artwork by Michel A.