No one's afraid anymore
of fragile girls with dragons
tattooed anywhere in between
the top of their heads
and the long, old train which
left the day innocence
and hope
were last seen in their gazers...
When dies, innocence leaves a hollow scar,
in which hope lays before the final door slam,
an egg.
It lays there petrified, deep beneath pages
of runaway gospels.

On the day when all guardian angels
will cover away the sight of dying children,
a mighty flaming sword shall fall...

That day, the fragile girls shall return.
With their dragons.