Tortured Reality

Thinning walls part sense and hysteria The tired cling to the gloss of nostalgia There is comfort in the spectre of nation Gather the weary running blind No war pure enough to peel the wool from their eyes But for all your books built on blood have ever had to count the bodies? Tortured reality Flailing at the centre Tortured reality Cradling the spool Self-preservation built on blood The end' delivered out of sight Is it discipline, delusion or fear? Corrections rotating on and on Tortured reality Flailing at the centre Tortured reality Cradling the spool And will it all remain adrift as another cloud plumes below a fading sun?