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The Blighted Land

The warren extends for miles,

it's home to tens of thousands

of displaced persons, exiles from the light,

and it is just a network of holes

in the ground.

Teenagers being what they are,

Ilona and Stefan want to get out

anyway they can,

nothing ever changes here,

and there's nothing new to see.

It is cold, so cold,

colder than they have ever known,

their lungs heave in the thin air,

it’s so bright they can scarcely see;

tears flow from their eyes,

and the wind flays flesh from their bones.

Mud and rock, sparse lichen,

as far as the eye can see;

they are standing on clay,

fissured by cracks

deeper than they are tall.

Why did the old ones

ever want to live here in the first place?

The tunnels are comforting,

like a mother's breast and arms,

and they go on forever.