By Andrew R. Duckworth
A world away from the pleasant lands
Was a place of unhinged fury and strife
Where fire erupted beneath the sands
Consuming those run out of life.
No one wished to see that place.
Those that dwelled there longed to leave,
Often joining in the race,
Trails through the dead land weaved.
But the Land of Fury was a maze,
And no one could escape
The demon’s unforgiving gaze
And fang toothed mouth agape.
Some said those there made their choice
And put themselves in prison.
They did not choose to use their voice,
And lacked eternal vision.
And for those who looked for hope
It would not be found
Because in the eternal scope
They were forever bound.
The Writings of Andrew R. Duckworth 